


Blumenaschen

by RustDyke



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Body Horror, But I’m more inclined toward emotional dynamics, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Existential Crisis, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Identity, Maybe eventual smut?, Slow Burn, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spoilers for Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Trauma, i'll add more tags as i write, so no promises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:42:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28923048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RustDyke/pseuds/RustDyke
Summary: A child brought into the world silent and still, a body devoid of life until a miraculous revival. Her mother had perished in childbirth and her father had vanished, never to be seen again. In their place Lady Rhea, the archbishop of the Church of Seiros, raised her as her own, for she was closer to this child than anyone could possibly fathom. Rhea had blessed that child with divine purpose, destined to restore light to Fódlan.Byleth knew the soul within her body was not her own. It had never been her own. What she understood to be her self was an imagined persona, merely a fragment of a greater whole; an echo of the dormant conscious of the Goddess. She was a vessel. That was her purpose. That was the only truth she knew. Until the day the Ashen Saint saved an enigmatic young woman with a piercing glare. It was in her reflection within those wary lilac eyes that all she knew began to unravel.Was she a vessel? An echo of the Goddess? Or had she been denied her humanity? Would this woman who sought to reforge the world prove to be Byleth's salvation? Or would she be her undoing?
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Rhea
Comments: 32
Kudos: 95





	1. The Vessel

✵

“Do you believe in the Goddess, eternity incarnate, creator of heaven above and the land below and all who live within it, who blessed upon us Her gifts of divine protection?”  
The voice rang across the cathedral, resonating within its hallowed expanse and enveloping its witnesses with both gracious affection and undeniable authority.

“I do.”

“Do you believe the teachings of Seiros, who was graced with the holy word of the divine Goddess, witness to Her magnificence, who carried out Her will to bring tidings of peace upon the world?”

“I do.”

“Do you believe in the holy Church of Seiros and its saints, who act in the loving will of the Goddess, to protect all of humankind until her return from the heavens?”

A faint glint briefly shimmered in the verdant eyes through the composed gravitas of the archbishop upon the conclusion of her words as she looked upon Byleth. It was a tenderness the young girl was accustomed to and she had grown to notice even the slightest of Rhea’s gestures with ease, though she seemed lacking in her ability to read, understand, or even speak to others. The archbishop’s gentle affections were often the only moments in which the child felt a faint stirring upon the still waters of her heart, though the organ itself remained ever quiet.

“I do.” Byleth replied, her impassive voice raised only loud enough for all who attended within the pews could hear.

“Do you promise to care for and protect all that is beautiful in this world, to never deny the splendors of love, affection, peace, faith, kindness, temperance, modesty, and patience, to follow the Goddess’s example and, in doing so, abide her laws?”

“I do.”

“This is our faith. This is the faith of the Church. We are proud to profess it in the name of the Goddess.” Rhea cast a gentle smile that lit up her face as she gingerly placed her hand upon the top of Byleth’s head. The same head upon which the archbishop had spent nearly half that morning taming her tangled mess of thick, teal hair. “May the blessings of the Goddess follow you, always.” she finished, placing her other hand upon her heart with her head lowered and eyes closed to punctuate the final words of the rite.  
Byleth repeated this last decree as did the chorus of voices behind her and so the ceremony ended.

“You did quite admirably,” a stern-faced older man began as he approached Byleth from the direction of the pews; its occupants already mingling with one another or lingering just as long as expected of them in a formal religious affair. Not many had attended the ceremony, as Byleth was hardly a very public or significant figure in Garreg Mach nor the Officers Academy. There was not a single student among the crowd-- mostly prominent members of the knights and faculty who held some manner of esteem with the archbishop. “Your composure was unwavering, though that is to be expected of one raised by the archbishop herself.” he continued. Not so much as a smile broke through his stone-hewn features, made even more striking by his gentle cascade of sea-green hair that fell just below his jaw and the thin immaculately trimmed beard that accentuated it. The high-collared buttoned uniform he wore was neatly pressed, with its deep navy hues stood in contrast to the resplendent gold embroidery and adornments that marked him as a high ranking figure of the Church. Byleth had known Seteth for as long as she could remember, though according to Rhea and himself, he had moved into the monastery when Byleth was no longer an infant. Nevertheless, she saw him as family despite how reserved he could be. There were so few that Byleth felt at ease around aside from Rhea, Seteth, and-

“By!” a booming voice called to her from the side. A large man approached the two of them, his face split with a wide and beaming grin, though his bright blue eyes were misty with overwhelming sentiment for an overwhelming man. “To think I would get to see Jeralt’s little girl reach her coming-of-age ceremony” he exclaimed, his words quivering with barely restrained emotion, though his volume remained just as loud despite now standing right before the other two. His thick brown hair was swept back and looked somewhat saturated with pomade that he likely applied to look a bit more presentable for the occasion. His wide and bold features might have been imposing if it weren’t for his jovial disposition. Without warning, he wrapped his massive arms around Byleth’s shoulders, drawing her into a suffocating embrace that would have actually hurt were it not for the rather plain formal wear he wore in place of his usual armored plates. “Your father would be so proud to see what a fine young woman you’ve become. I wish he could have seen you for himself.” he lamented, this time his voice lowering nearly to a sigh. “I am truly honored to help look after you in his stead.”

Whereas Rhea was gentle and motherly, and Seteth was stiff though not unkind, Alois had never been shy in his displays of physical affection for the child. Not that Byleth minded, she had grown quite comfortable with the man that had insisted on being in her life however he could since she was an infant. Whenever she would ask Rhea about her parents the archbishop would give her a somber smile and simply explain that they had been dear to her and that they had loved Byleth more than anything in the world. By contrast, Alois would begin speaking of her father unprompted. He excitedly launched into stories of his time spent with him as a squire whether it was harrowing battles or ridiculous fishing mishaps, all while being torn between laughing himself into a fit or staring off wistfully as he relived memories of the past. Alois had taken to teaching Byleth the basics of combat only a few years ago after she had watched him on the training grounds hacking at pells with his massive battle-axe. She had wanted a try at using his weapon but he insisted that a girl of only nine years would be better off starting with something safer and more balanced. He trained her in the basics of combat with a simple wooden training sword whenever the two of them had the free time to do so. It was only right, he had said, that the daughter of a legendary knight such as Jeralt should learn to fight with the techniques that he himself had passed on to his squire-- and not only that but it seemed as if Byleth was a natural just like her father had been. If Rhea’s and Seteth’s religious instruction made Byleth feel closer to her mother, who she was told was a nun at the monastery for all of her life, then Alois’s weapons training made her feel closer to the father she never knew in some way.

On afternoons they trained together the two of them would head to the fishing pond to rest. Alois had taught her to fish as well and it had only been a year before Byleth was better at it than her instructor. Upon noticing this, the knight only laughed and said he had never been any good at it in the first place. “Your father had always told me I was hopeless!” he exclaimed. Seteth had eventually caught on to their private combat training sessions and reprimanded the two of them for “such gross endangerment of a child, and the ward of Lady Rhea no less.” Byleth had pleaded with Rhea to allow her to continue her training, a request to which the archbishop had briefly been taken aback by. The child had never asked her so intently for anything before and seeing the determined look in her eyes, she relented.

“I hope I’m not interrupting a moment here,” a deep and silvery voice interrupted Byleth’s brief thoughts. Alois withdrew from his hug to give her a wide enough berth to the newcomer. He stood taller than either Seteth or Alois, but lacked in the officious manner of the former and the robust frame of the latter. His pale face was weathered with age and his neatly trimmed grayed hair and whiskers were flecked with the chestnut hues they had once been in their entirety. His finely pressed elm colored suit was befitting a professor of the Officers Academy, but was eccentric in its own manner with accenting hues that reminded Byleth of the forest. He peered down at the young girl with bespectacled blue eyes; bright and inquisitive, sharply undulled by his years.

“Once she concludes her formalities Lady Rhea has need of Byleth’s time, but you are free to speak with her for the moment.” Seteth responds dryly, apparently displeased with standing by idly when he had his own commitments to attend to. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall be taking my leave.” He gave the rest of them a cordial nod before departing.

Hanneman, ever pertinacious, quickly turned back to her. “Congratulations on your ceremony, Byleth. It’s hard to imagine you were only a young child when I first took my position here. Truly the years pass by quite swiftly at my age.” Byleth wordlessly nodded in acknowledgment, not that the professor ever needed her to fill the conversations between them. “You’ve been such an adept student so I must say that I look forward to seeing how you may progress in the years to come. I wonder if your aptitude for both magic and martial discipline at your age might have something to do with the possession of a crest.” he mused thoughtfully-- more to himself than to his present company. "Truly a shame that Lady Rhea and Seteth won’t allow me to examine you, but perhaps there will be observations to be made as you mature. Anyway, I shall see you at your next lesson. For now, I have a lecture to give. Good day to the both of you.”

On the topic of magic and crests, Alois had remained uncharacteristically but understandably silent, but with Hanneman now gone he refocused his attention back on his sister-in-spirit. “I suppose I should get going too. Wouldn’t want to keep you from Lady Rhea.” He affectionately placed a sturdy hand upon Byleth’s shoulder before stepping away. “If you have the time this evening then you should come find me. We could go fishing for a bit”

With no more adults petitioning for her time and nothing around that was of any interest, Byleth turned to find Rhea. There was nothing in particular that she wanted to tell her, but it was a long-held compulsive habit of hers to find her doting caretaker whenever she was idle if only to be near her. She found Rhea near the pulpit conversing with a few of the monks and bishops who had attended the ceremony. Each was dressed in the robes of virgin snow and and resplendent gold that represented the Church, but the archbishop stood out even amongst the other officials in her luminous vestments. She wore flowing robes of the purest white which contoured tightly to her figure but pooled loosely to the floor, save above her collar and below her wrists. A splendid mantle of midnight and gold cascaded from her shoulders to her feet, emblazoned with a pattern of the blossom-like crest of holy saint Seiros. Upon the crown of her head sat the golden crescent diadem of the archbishop, embossed end to end with patterns that invoked floral, cordate, and celestial imagery, and just below a fair lily adorned both sides of her deluge of flowing mint hair. Rhea’s gaze fell upon her as she approached the hum of conversation and she greeted the child with a soft smile. Byleth waited placidly at a respectful distance as the archbishop finished her exchange with the other officials, glancing here and there at nothing in particular. The conversation hardly registered to her as it dawdled onwards. She never took much interest in Rhea’s business, though whether out of conduct ingrained into her by her caretaker or genuine indifference, it was difficult to say. Byleth snapped back to attentiveness as she saw the group disperse and Rhea approaching her from the corner of her vision.

“Thank you for your patience, child.” Rhea extended her hand and Byleth gingerly took it in return, knowing that the gesture meant that Rhea wished to lead her somewhere. She always found the warmth and softness of her hand to be comforting. “I am truly overjoyed to have officiated your rites of confirmation.” They traversed the mosaic tiles of the cathedral’s floors back to the towering wooden doors of the entrance and stepped out into the open air of midday. Autumn coincided with Byleth’s day of birth and while the sun still shined bright and warm above, there was a crisp coolness to the mountain air of the monastery.  
“One’s confirmation rites not only mark one’s coming of age.” Rhea began as they crossed the wide stone bridge that joined the cathedral to the rest of the monastery over a narrow, forested ravine. “It also affirms one’s faith in the Goddess as well as the Church. It greatly warms my heart to hear you speak your vows with such resolution.” She gave Byleth’s hand an affectionate squeeze. Byleth had known the faith of the Church for as long as she could remember, better knowing its creed than most children her age, having been raised by the archbishop herself. Aside from her personal studies and hobbies, it was all she really knew. Byleth never really related to other children around the monastery. She couldn’t see the appeal in their play and she struggled to speak with them. Frankly, most of the monastery’s children found her odd and boring, not that she minded. The students of the academy didn’t speak with her much either, likely not being interested in spending time with a younger child nor fraternizing with the adoptive daughter of the archbishop. There had been one exception-- a brash and outgoing young woman with sandy blonde hair and sun-kissed skin named Cassandra. She adored Lady Rhea and seemed at ease around them both. She had often joined Byleth and Alois in their training while she attended the academy before she had graduated just earlier that year. While their conversations were quite one-sided, Byleth enjoyed simply being able to train with the older woman, who was able to teach her swordplay when Alois had exhausted his limited ability in the skill.

The two of them reached the end of the bridge and entered the monastery’s main building which stood nearly as ornate and towering as the cathedral opposite of it. Students, knights, and monks milled about inside, some chatting with one another while others studied at the tables within the reception hall or hurried off to their duties or classes. Some of the students gawked in surprise at seeing the archbishop among the usual crowd and nearby knights stood at attention in her presence, but neither Lady Rhea or Byleth paid them too much mind as they headed towards the stairs to the higher levels. At the top of the stairs was a private floor reserved for Rhea, Byleth, and Seteth’s living quarters and the magnificent star terrace which overlooked the rest of the monastery grounds below that they now stepped out to.

“Come, I have something very important to discuss with you.” Rhea led Byleth to sit next to each other on a marble bench that stood facing one of the two stone-constructed pools that stood at either side of the sun-bathed terrace, each filled with scores of water lilies. They both stared at the still surface of the water, taking in the serene atmosphere-- the scent of flowers, the melodious chirping of song birds, the pleasant warmth of the sun shining down on them. Whenever Rhea had some reprieve from her responsibilities as archbishop she would often spend time with Byleth in moments such as this. The child rarely spoke unless she was spoken to, but she treasured the calm all the same. Yet this occasion was different, laden with Rhea’s anticipation for words she had been waiting to say since the young girl had been born. With a tinge of excitement to her usual poise Rhea turned to her and clasped her hands around Byleth’s. Her verdant eyes, full of light both eager and weary, met with the listless gaze of lapis.. “I have spoken with you of your mother before,” a bittersweet smile crossed her lips as memories flickered in her thoughts. “But there is much more I wished to tell you once you were old enough to understand.” Byleth sat passively still, her eyes unwaveringly fixed upon Rhea’s, letting on that she was listening intently though her expression remained vacant. “Your mother was dear to me, just as you are. Before Seteth had come to live with us she was the only family I had. I thought of her as my own daughter.” Rhea paused, closing her eyes with a deep inhale. “In a way, she was my daughter. I made Sitri with my own blood, in a way unlike a mother who gives birth to her infant. I brought her into existence with a great purpose I had thought she was destined to fulfill.” She paused. If Byleth had felt disquieted in any way, she did not show it. The child had always held onto Rhea’s every word as infallible and followed her every direction with deference. The woman was her entire world-- her caretaker, her maternal figure, her teacher. She fed her, gave her structure and purpose, sang to her softly until she fell asleep, held her in her arms and gently ran her fingers through her hair to soothe her when she was tired. It was with Rhea that she felt most content, where she felt a sense of belonging.

“Before anything else, I must share with you a long tale, one spanning millennia. I only ask that you listen carefully. Can you please do that for me?” Byleth nodded silently in response. “Thank you, my dear child.” Rhea smiled softly before beginning. “The Goddess Sothis descended upon our world long ago. She blessed the land with abundance and prosperity. She protected all that lived upon it with a love deeper than any sea.” Byleth had heard this tradition throughout the monastery many times since she was a child, but when Rhea told it she felt a deep sense of meaningfulness shared only between the two of them. However, as Rhea continued, the recounting diverged from that which the child had known. “To help her guide the people of the land, Sothis created children with her blood, the Nabateans. She cherished her children dearly, and they shared in Sothis’s love for the land and the people who called it home. They led humanity into a blessed future unlike anything seen in this world before or since. It was a time of peace, unity, and untarnished joy for all. Yet in their prosperity, the hearts of humans grew greedy and wicked. In their hubris they pointed their swords at the Goddess, seeking to make themselves gods in her place. They waged war on Sothis and her children, and any human who still followed her. The land was sown with strife and soaked with blood as the heretics recklessly unleashed weapons of terrible power with no care for how many lives were lost in the destruction. With sorrow etched deep into her heart, Sothis called upon her immense power, a power that she had never believed she would use to harm any living being. The villainous people who threatened to bring the world to ruin were wiped away, and thereafter, Sothis and her children slowly nurtured the land and its people so that they would bloom again. To be forced to destroy and restore so much at once, the Goddess withdrew from the world to rest, and she left to her children the responsibility of guiding humankind in her absence.”

Rhea paused, eyes closed once more in pensive thought. Byleth was patient, yet entranced. She had never heard of the children of the Goddess in all her years of living in the monastery, and though she felt little in the way of matters of her own heart, she was intimately sensitive to Rhea’s feelings-- those that none else seemed to notice, she had never felt such a powerful tempest of emotions emanate from her adoptive mother in all her life.

“Ages passed without the Goddess to guide humanity through this era of regrowth. The children did what they could, but not even together could they compare to the power and wisdom of Sothis. While some walked among humankind, many chose to seclude themselves near the sacred site where Sothis slept, waiting for their mother to return. But...” Rhea’s voice wavered and strained as she continued. Her eyes shimmered with the threat of tears. Byleth had never cried before. She never understood why people cried, what drove them to shed rain-like drops from their eyes or to wail until they heaved with each breath. She had never seen Rhea nor Seteth cry either, so at least she found some comfort in knowing she wasn’t alone in that. To see Rhea cry now was perhaps more discomforting than anything that had pertained to the story thus far. Byleth felt something unfamiliar, a pang deep inside that seemed to come from someplace elusive and ethereal, yet so much more real than the stone below her feet or the myriad of hues that painted the sky above in gentle brushstrokes. Rhea wasn’t supposed to cry. She was supposed to smile and bathe others in the gracious light of her gaze. She was supposed to stand tall, somehow even above the largest of men, as a beacon for everyone around them as cardinal as the sun and moon, and… Rhea was supposed to be happy when she was with her. Byleth had always done what she was told to by her caretaker as if it were as natural as breathing. Now she felt a tender responsiveness of her own, simultaneously foreign and terribly familiar, like a song heard for the first time that engenders a recollection obscured within the memory’s haze, whether real or imagined. Hesitantly, she reached out her hand not held in Rhea’s and tenderly placed it upon her cheek. Stunned surprise flashed across Rhea’s eyes as she was pulled from her somber trance. She lifted a pale, slender hand of her own and gently pressed it against the one that caressed her face, cherishing the moment of warmth between them. “Such a sweet child.” Her eyes still held to their melancholy, but her lips curved into a smile that brimmed with love. “I forgot myself for a moment, I did not mean to worry you.” she softly reassured. She took a deep breath, letting her thoughts of grief flow away with it then gently grasped the hand upon her cheek and drew it between them, holding their embrace in the space between them.

“The wickedness that festers in the hearts of men did not leave this world after the judgement of the Goddess.” she continued slowly, finding resolution as she found her words. “There was one such man who committed an unthinkable horror that none could have imagined. He murdered Sothis while she rested in her most sacred place, seeking to usurp the Goddess and claim dominion over Fódlan. You know him as the King of Liberation, Nemesis.” She paused to observe Byleth’s reaction to the revelation, one she hadn’t uttered to anyone in over a thousand years, but there was none to be seen. Byleth had learned the accounts of Fódlan’s history as any other educated child would, but the deeds and import of people both living and long dead never concerned her much. It would have been taken aback if the child had worn any expression other than her usual stoicism. “Nemesis was a man of cruel ambition and no atrocity was too grave a sin in his desire for power. With the Goddess gone, Nemesis and his followers, the Ten Elites, turned their bloodlust upon her children. They attacked without mercy and slaughtered the Nabateans in their sanctuary in Zanado. Whether they fought back, whether they tried to flee or save one another, whether they begged for mercy or cried in anguish, it mattered not to those heartless monsters. None were spared.”

There was a heavy pause. Rhea’s eyes briefly closed and all the while Byleth remained still and enraptured, though not by the unveiling of truths long hidden from the world, but for the sake of the adoptive mother before her, who so strongly wished to share this with her. “With none to oppose them, Nemesis and his followers had conquered Fódlan in a tide of bloodshed and the world was once again plunged into darkness. Nemesis set an example of vileness that stoked the evils that lie in the hearts of men. War was unending. There were no laws save for one: It was the right of the strong to consume the weak.” Her voice hardened, possessed of an intensity that Byleth could not quite grasp.

“A Nabatean named Morrigan was the sole survivor of that massacre. She stood alone among the carnage that remained of all she had ever loved. She had nearly fallen to despair, no longer wishing to live in a world bereft of light. She grieved before the empty throne of her mother for weeks, hoping somehow that her mother would return and embrace her, that she might wipe away Morrigan’s tears and tell her that it was all a terrible dream. Sothis did not appear before her, but in that holy place Morrigan heard her voice reach her, though painfully distant; painfully ethereal. She called out to her mother’s voice but she did not hear it again. The pain upon her soul was heavy to bear, but Morrigan now had hope. She had hope that Sothis was not gone forever, that she still existed in this world in some way. Morrigan swore upon that empty throne that she would take up a righteous cause in her mother’s stead. She would punish those who had committed unspeakable crimes against her. She would bring salvation to the faithful and protection to the innocent. She would give every ounce of her very being to see the Goddess return and restore Fódlan. On that day she casted off the name her mother had given her until she could hear her speak it again. On that day she became the warrior saint, Seiros

Seiros roamed the land as it fell to ruin and depravity, searching for allies and what few surviving Nabateans remained scattered outside of Zanado. Cichol, Macuil, Ceathleann, and Indech-- those we now know as the Four Saints were children of the Goddess as well, among a few others, who were spared the horror of the massacre at the Red Canyon. Yet still the last children of Sothis could not challenge Nemesis and his horde on their own. They needed the help of humans to overcome their enemies. Seiros thought it was only right that she detest humankind for inflicting such grief and pain on her family, but if becoming a shepherd for the people of Fódlan was what it took to destroy Nemesis, then so she would. Seiros revealed herself in Enbarr and worked to turn the despoiled town into a prosperous sanctuary in which to gather those pure of heart and a refuge for those fleeing the horrible evils of Nemesis’s Fódlan. She taught the humans who came to her of the Goddess, whose light had blessed the world with life until humanity’s sins drove her to depart for the heavens in her sorrow. The faithful came from across Fódlan, seeking hope in the teachings of the saint who spoke for the Goddess above. Together with her followers and her family she established the Church of Seiros as a beacon to stand against the darkness. In time, Seiros found that she could not bring herself to hate all of humanity for though their hearts were wont to give into selfish evils they were also capable of such compassion and love of life. It was for that flawed essence of the human soul that Sothis must have loved them as she loved her own children.”

Rhea smiled sweetly and her gaze turned up to the darkening sky which now harbored several brilliant stars, bright enough to cut through the sky even before the sun had vanished over the horizon. Byleth recognized each of them, having been taught by Rhea, who loved beholding the night sky more than anyone Byleth knew. On nights when the sky was bright and clear Rhea would take Byleth out onto the star terrace to gaze upon the rich celestial canvas in pleasant silence together. The bright gleam of that night’s crescent moon had nearly drawn the young girl into a trance before Rhea spoke again.

“Save for the truth of Nemesis and the Ten Elites and the wickedness they wrought, you remember what followed, yes? The alliance of Seiros and Wilhelm Paul Hresvelg, the founding of the Adrestian Empire, and the War of Heroes?”

Byleth nodded. She wasn’t particularly interested in her history lessons, but as with most of her studies she retained it all the same. Rhea hummed in response and said nothing more. Byleth patiently observed her guardian’s stilled expression. She appeared withdrawn in inscrutable rumination, deliberating what to say next. Would she continue through her retelling of history? It wasn’t that Byleth would be bothered if that were the case, but she couldn’t understand why Rhea was sharing this with her now. As if in response to her inner bemusement, Rhea broke from her contemplative silence and met Byleth’s eyes with a deep gaze. She felt enthralled by the way the archbishop regarded her, as if she were peering into unknowable depths within her, far beyond even Byleth’s innermost thoughts.

“My dear child,” Rhea breathed, soothing yet determined, “What I’m about to say may be difficult for you to understand. I have waited until you came of age, and though you may be young still, you have always been bright-minded and mature. Now that you know the truth, that Sothis was so cruelly taken from us; from her children, from a world that needed her to protect and guide all who inhabit it.” She exhaled softly, never breaking her gaze from Byleth. “Know that from the day you were born I have loved you with all my heart and soul.”

Strange sensations flitted about in Byleth’s chest like faint wisps that she could not fully grasp, that waxed and waned before they could be fully seen. She understood at the very least that she did not feel in the same way that most others did. Words such as love and grief, joy and sadness-- they did not hold the same meaning for her. What she did know, however, was that Rhea meant more to her than anything else. She couldn’t imagine Rhea not being in her life, she would do anything for her in return, and if that wasn’t what love was then maybe would never understand. However, her connection to her adoptive mother was not the only thing that stirred her, for whatever it was that Rhea wished to share now was beyond whatever she could guess. Her life here had been so straightforward and routine for as long as she could remember. She attended her studies, she performed her chores thoroughly, and when her time was free she would pass it with her own interests. These peaceful days in Garreg Mach had been her way of life without fail. What more could there ever be?

Rhea seemed to pick up on Byleth’s puzzlement despite how placid her face was. She tenderly ran her hand back and forth along Byleth’s arm. “It is nothing to fret about, Byleth.” she reassured. “You’re far more important than you know.” Her smile was warm and comforting. “There is a reason why I shared this hidden history with you.” Rhea stared at her intently in anticipation to gauge her understanding. She exhaled sharply before speaking again. “I am Seiros.” Byleth only tilted her head in slow comprehension as the revelation sunk in. “I am a child of Sothis. Not only me, but Seteth as well. He is Saint Cichol.” she continued. “We Nabateans live over the spans of thousands of years, unlike the short lives of humans. I slew Nemesis. I have guided Fódlan to peace as well as I could in the absence of our mother” There was a hint of somberness to her voice that Byleth nearly missed as she digested the fact that her family was something far different than all the others she saw day to day in the monastery. That even those people were ignorant to that truth. Rhea seemed to deliberate again, carefully observing Byleth’s face before she carried on. “Even with over a decade to consider my words, I still struggle with the words I wish to say to you.” she muttered softly. “Your father was human, even if…” she faltered. “I apologize, maybe there is still more that I must explain to you for you to understand.” She appeared troubled, fallible. That uncertainty gave Byleth pause as well as she struggled to keep up with what she was already given. “As I said before, I created your mother. She is of my blood. Like me she was not human, but she was not entirely Nabatean either. I could never be even so much as a flawed substitute for my mother” she sighed and the gentle caress along Byleth’s arm felt increasingly more firm. Her verdant eyes no longer focused on her and instead succumbed to another bitterly nostalgic gaze. “I created Sitri with a purpose. To... ” A pause pregnant with an emotion Byleth was unfamiliar with-- something that could not quite be described as sadness alone. “Sitri wasn’t the same as any living being. She was meant to be a vessel for the Goddess. In her body I placed Sothis’s soul so that it may grow and bring the Goddess back to this world. I cannot truly create a living soul as my mother could. Sitri was hollow, she could only echo the mortal emotions she could never reach. I… I’m certain that is something familiar to you.” She gave Byleth a bittersweet smile. “Your father was human, yes. Somehow he conceived with your mother. I think, perhaps, it is because I had offered him my blood to save his life. The same blood that created her.” Another pause weighed on them both; a gravity Byleth felt but had no response to other than to bear it. “You were a stillbirth. Sitri was frail of body and never presented any trace of Sothis’s dormant spirit. She could not survive the ordeal of childbirth, nor could she accept that the child she had hoped for wasn’t to be. With her last breath she wished for me to take the heart of Sothis from her body and place it within yours. I never could have imagined that it would be in that breathless body that you would find the perfect vessel.”

“I don’t…” Byleth muttered in response, her mind engulfed in a thick fog. She tentatively lifted her hand to the center of her chest. She felt the steady warmth beneath her skin, but it was as still as it had always been. Rhea’s eyes glimmered with caring concern, watching the child with loving attention. The woman embraced her, letting Byleth’s mind fall at ease.

“My dear child, please do not mourn.” She cooed, her cheek pressed against her own. “The child your parents expected simply never was. Sitri lacked a true soul, she couldn’t possibly give birth to a living child with a soul of its own. You are so much more. You are the Goddess, you always have been. Were you not then you would not be here, experiencing life and the world around you. I truly believe that. I can feel the kindling light within you.” Rhea’s arms tightened around her shoulders. “You are Sothis reincarnate, though you may not realize it. You may only be a fragment of yourself, but the rest of you will surface in time as you grow into your body, I am certain of that.”

Words normally never came to Byleth because she had none to say, but now she wished to find them and could not. Her mind swam violently. The Goddess? She was the Goddess herself? She had never felt divine. She had never felt above the heavens or even above others. She was simply Rhea’s adopted daughter. She was simply a part of Garreg Mach, her home. Wasn’t she?

Rhea leaned away from her to look her in the eyes once more. “You must feel lost, and I am sorry if I caused you distress,” She caressed Byleth’s cheek as if it would break beneath her touch. “But I am certain that you must know now so that you may fully grasp your missing memories as they return to you. Do you understand?”

Byleth nodded but she felt more unsure of herself than she ever had. She felt mystified, as if she were suddenly drawn into an entirely different world. Every aspect of her reality had felt so simple, so immutable before then. She wasn’t Byleth, she was Sothis. She was a piece of Sothis? Who she believed herself to be was nothing but her own amnesia? It was so difficult to grasp. Her head felt as if it had hit the ground like when she fell during her training sessions with Alois. Nobody knew. Not Alois, not Hanneman, not the few others who had thought to approach and try to befriend her. In her swirl of half-formed thoughts and questions, she seized the first she could, for the sake of something to take the forefront of it all.

“Does Seteth know?” Her voice came to her in an unexpected whisper.

“I will speak to him. I am sure he will be overjoyed to know that you are family, closer to one another than he realized. He’s always been fond of you, even if he rarely shows it.” Rhea assured. She raised her hand to her lips pensively and abrupt distress briefly flickered within her eyes. “Though, even once I do, please refrain from calling him or myself by our true names, and never speak to anyone of who you are either.” Her expression softened as she realized how grave she had sounded. “Please understand, you have no reason to be ashamed of who you are. When your memories and divinity fully return then we will no longer have to hide. You will be celebrated, the people of Fódlan will accept you with love in their hearts-- I have made sure of that. Until then, I am only trying to protect us from those who wish to harm us again.” She gently pressed her forehead to Byleth’s, her voice a quivering hush. “I will not allow anyone to take you from us again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first fanfiction and I haven't wrote a lengthy story in a long time so I'm sorry if the writing is a little inconsistent.  
> I never took much interest in fanfiction at all until I read some of the amazing Edeleth stories that others had written, and I utterly adore this ship.  
> I originally intended for there to be more in this chapter but the closer I got to 10k words the more I realized I would have to divide it into two parts.  
> Sorry for all the exposition but I felt it was needed to establish Byleth's relationship with herself and others.  
> The next chapter will bring us to the start of present events, I promise.
> 
> What have I gotten myself into? I just wanted to write a story about my favorite ladies in love
> 
> Edit: Oh and some of you might be wondering why I chose to have Rhea's original name be Morrigan. Cichol, Cethleann, Macuil, and Indech are all references to figures in Irish mythology. Seiros is an outlier, being Greek, and it also felt more like a persona that Rhea mantled to avenge the Nabateans and redeem humanity. It's a name that references the star Sirius, Sothis's star. It felt very purposeful. So I chose Morrigan as her original name, as one of the Tuatha de Dannan and that fact that Morrigan is a goddess of war but also a goddess of earth and sovereignty, a guardian for the land and its people. Felt appropriate. Just wanted to explain my lore bending


	2. The Ashen Saint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Graphic descriptions of death and bodily injury from here on out

✵

Byleth awoke in a lethargic daze, struggling to make sense of her surroundings in her first few moments lacking lucidity. Everything was terribly unfamiliar, like waking from one blurred dream into another. Minutes passed by as she steadied her breath and took in everything around her. She was in her tent, lying on her bedroll. She nearly stated it aloud, if only for the sake of grounding herself in her post-slumber haze. She was in her tent out in the wilderness near Garreg Mach. She had volunteered to accompany the small contingent of knights assigned to protect a number of academy students in case any emergencies occurred during their routine camping trip held at the beginning of each year. She gave into a heavy sigh as her mind began to catch up to her.

Such sudden bouts of exhaustion and deep sleep had become the norm for her in the past few years. Just a few days ago she had risen from bed to find that she had slept for nearly three weeks. Rhea and Seteth assured her that there was nothing to worry about; that such episodes were to be expected while her body still grew accustomed to the slow return of her true consciousness and power. Flayn, however, confided her own fears with Byleth when she noticed her narcolepsy.

_“Almost every night I drift into sleep with a creeping fear that I may wake to a world that may as well be a stranger to me. When I had been hurt during… during the war… I fell into a deep sleep. When I finally woke up I was sorrowed to learn that over a thousand years had passed without me. Everyone I had grown to hold dear were gone, save for my father and Rhea. If that were to happen again… I pray that such a thing does not befall any of us.”_

Byleth clumsily grasped for the leather flask of water next to her bed roll and drank it down greedily. The light filtering in from the gap between her unfastened tent flaps was quickly waning which meant, to her disappointment, that she had slept through the entire afternoon. The only reason she had requested to attend the camping trip was so that she could enjoy some time out in the wilderness. She rarely had reason to leave the monastery and thought she’d take the opportunity to enjoy the quiet scenery of the woods or find time for herself to sit in the sun and fish somewhere other than the pond back home. It would soon be too dark to do any of that and they were due to pack up and return to the monastery at daybreak. With a weary groan she stood up from her bedroll and began to work the stiff knots out of her neck and shoulders. It was unfortunate that she had slept through the time she had set aside for her own leisure but she never felt comfortable being completely idle. Alois was probably planning on joining the students around the campfire once the sun set, eager to share his every-growing stockpile of jokes. Byleth didn’t really understand why wordplay was supposed to be funny but she hardly minded, especially since the knight enjoyed telling them. She did notice that others seemed more irritated than amused by Alois’s brand of comedy, but that never seemed to deter the man. The professor that had volunteered to chaperone the students as well as some of the knights would probably join the fireside gathering too, but Byleth would have to find something else to do. She had never been all that adept at casual socializing and most people would stop paying her any mind once they realized that she made for a rather subpar conversational partner. Silently sitting about while everyone else mingled would certainly leave her feeling just as restless as staying in her tent would.

Settling on busying herself with chopping firewood, as there was little else to do on such a brief and minor trip, Byleth began to collect what few garments she had taken off prior. She was halfway through lacing up the second leather boot when Alois practically bursted through the tent flaps, breaths labored with exertion and his brow covered in sweat. He must have practically sprinted to her tent in the full set of bulky steel armor that he always wore when he was on duty. “Byleth, no time-” his words spaced between heavy breaths “to explain. Armed group. Attacking camp. Hurry.” Without another word he was gone, likely to muster the rest of the knights.

Byleth quickly finished lacing her boot and retrieved the heavy leather case she kept her equipment in. She could hear a rising clamor of panicked shouting growing closer outside of her tent. There wouldn’t be enough time to put on her pieces of armor, as light as they were. There was no time to retrieve a weapon from the supply carriage on the other side of the camp-- which from what she could glean from the chaotic noise outside, was probably already overtaken by their assailants. Haphazardly tossing her chest piece and limb guards aside, she seized the thickly bundled canvas that lay beneath. She had stowed her weapon away in the unlikely case she would have need of it, though she was also strongly inclined to keep it near on the rare occasion that she left the monastery. It had only been in her possession for the past four years, but to be apart from it left her distressed, as if she had left behind a piece of her own body-- a sentiment that Rhea assured was not unexpected. The cloth unfurled and Byleth curled a hand around its smooth grip. A familiar sensation stirred in her chest, like steel heating within a flame, and in response the sword came to life, bathing her in the glow of an otherworldly sun.

_“The Sword of the Creator” Rhea said in a reverent hush, breaking Byleth out of the trance she had been drawn into by the radiant blade in her hands. She gazed up at the archbishop. Her face was awash in the brilliant crimson light, making her appear almost ethereal against the shadows cast by the faint torchlight of the Holy Mausoleum. Her eyes shined with anticipation but her faint smile seemed somehow unquiet. “It is unlike the other Heroes’ Relics. It is-” her voice fell to a slow whisper “deeply connected to the Goddess.”_

_Byleth looked back down to the Relic. It felt heavy in her hands even as she felt flush with its power. It felt as if her entire body was abuzz while embers frantically danced within her chest. From tip to pommel the sword must have stood as tall as her, and it was shaped like no weapon she had ever seen before. She had never encountered a Heroes’ Relic in person but from the books she had read in the library she knew that Relics defied the conventional forms of mundane weapons used across the known world. One edge was serrated with wide teeth far too large and blunted to be meant to saw through flesh and the guard was a bloom of wicked crescents, giving it the appearance of a twisted bat, and within the center was a small, perfectly round hole perhaps as wide around as the lengthy hilt. From end to end the sword seemed to be made of the same material, which looked nothing like any manner of metal. The unwrapped hilt felt sleek against her palms yet had none of the slight chill of steel and all along the surface of the guard and the blade were marred with erratic fissures. It reminded her of the weathered stone of a long neglected ruin. Glancing back at the opening in its center, she briefly wondered how such a weapon could have been fashioned before something dawned on her._

_Rhea hummed upon seeing the look of realization on Byleth’s face. “Yes, that is the space in which the crest stone would be placed. The same crest stone within your body.” An image of the stone that was her heart being torn from her chest and placed within the slot took hold of Byleth for a fleeting instant, but she reflexively pushed it away. Whatever purpose it had served before, the stone was now a conduit to channel Sothis’s soul into her vessel._

_“When I slew Nemesis long ago I reclaimed this sword that he stole from my mother. He murdered her to wrest its power from her and with that power he committed countless atrocities across Fódlan.” The grave expression upon Rhea’s face softened as she looked into Byleth’s eyes. “This Relic now belongs to you, dear child, and with its power you must protect the lives of the faithful and punish the wicked beings who would see the world returned to vile savagery.”_

_“I promise.” The sword still felt heavy in her hands, yet now its weight felt it had purpose. Her purpose. “I promise to protect Fódlan. I promise to protect our family.” Her voice was flat but laden with resolve. She was no good with words, especially such declarations of righteousness. It was through her actions that she would honor Rhea’s wishes._

_Rhea gently cupped Byleth’s cheek, beaming with the approval that the young woman sought. “I have no doubt that you will fulfill that promise, my sweet child. I also believe that this will bring you closer to being whole again, that this Relic of the Goddess will aid in Sothis’s– your restoration.” She withdrew her hand and beckoned towards the broad stone steps through which they had entered. “There is one last place I would like for us to visit tonight.”_

Byleth grunted with effort as she dragged the bloodied body across the grass towards the row of fallen enemies the knights had gathered. Alois stood over the corpses, his face contemplative as he stroked the moustache that framed both corners of his sober frown. He looked uninjured, no worse for wear other than the drying blood that stained the front of his armor. There had been no casualties among the knights or even the students, though some had taken injuries during the chaos of the ambush none were life threatening. The students were shaken, some mute and withdrawn, others interlocked in tears and comfort with friends. Some had stood their ground and fought to protect their peers– mainly those who had combat experience prior to enrolling in the Officers’ Academy and were lucky enough to reach their weapons during the confusion. Ultimately they had all been lucky that the attackers were amateurish and disorganized. Likely just bandits, Alois had mused. Byleth ended up being grateful that she had been pressed by circumstance into wielding her Relic, which was now inert and secured in the leather frog fastened to her hip. The reach and agility it afforded her proved to be crucial in reaching the marauders in any direction before they could cut down the students. The sight of the glowing blade itself, the severed limbs and yawning wounds it left in its wake, had caused panic amongst the enemy as well, allowing the knights to rout them easily. Its wielder felt uneasy about the way the students looked at her with shocked awe and unease. She had hardly interacted with any during the trip but now none would meet her gaze. All of them gave her a wide berth as if she might explode in a hail of bystander-injuring shrapnel.

Byleth kept to Alois’s side and quietly waited for orders. They would likely want to evacuate the camp and hastily retreat to the monastery given the possibility of more bandits being about in the forest under the cover of night. Alois faced her and opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a shout. They both spun around to see one of the knights briskly approaching them with frantic urgency. “Eugene!” Alois shouted as the man came to a stop and stood at attention “status report.

“Captain! There’s a problem.” the young and gaunt-faced knight panted. “Three of the students are missing, the house leaders. One of the others says they ran into the forest to the west of the camp. They were being pursued by some of the bandits, sir!”

“The house leaders?” Alois gasped, his eyes wide in shock. “This is bad. Very bad. Gather up the rest of the knights, we’re going to pursue them on horseback.” He glanced about hastily, his features scrunching in puzzlement. “Eugene, where’s professor Nikolaus?”

“Ah, well,” the knight shifted on his feet uncomfortably, clearly uneager to deliver more bad news to his commanding officer. “Some of the students said the professor fled during the attack, sir. In the opposite direction.”

Alois’s vexation could not have been any more of a foil to his usual jovial demeanor. “We can deal with that later.” he sighed. “Byleth and I will fetch our horses. Inform the rest of the knights that they’re to stay with the students and prepare to depart as soon as we return. Report back as soon as you’re done. Quickly.”

“Yes sir, right away sir.” Eugene hurried back towards the where most of the students had gathered; where the knights were still taking a headcount and assessing injuries.

“This has to be my worst run of luck yet.” He ran his fingers through his disheveled thicket of hair, his voice was a grave mutter. “Of all the students to lose track of it had to be the ones that would cause the worst diplomatic incident of the century. I’ll be fortunate if my post is the only thing I lose.” Byleth had only heard about the house leaders in a short exchange with Alois just prior to the trip and only caught passing glimpses of them during their journey from the monastery. From what she understood, each was positioned to become the next head of state within their respective nations. _“Practically unheard of! I bet they’re going to be a royal pain”_ he had chuckled. His jest had ending up holding far more truth than he would have imagined.

The two of them made haste towards their mounts, wasting no time in untethering three of them and checking that all their riding gear was still secure. Eugene returned to them, out of breath, moments after they finished. The exhausted man was not afforded any time to recover as Alois urged him to mount up. Byleth stepped onto the stirrup of the dappled grey and white mare and threw her leg over the saddle. Alois took the lead, squeezing his legs to send his own umber gelding into a trot. She and Eugene followed suit, keeping their mounts at a measured pace to avoid one of their horses catching a leg on an exposed root or animal burrow. “We’ll make our way out of the clearing and back onto the thoroughfare” Alois explained as he pulled next to Byleth and matched her pace. “There’s a village nearby. It’s roughly in the direction those kids ran in, so if any of them know about it then my best guess is that they’ll try and take shelter there.”

Byleth silently nodded in agreement. It was a better place to start than through the trees and thickets of the forest, which would have forced them to follow on foot with no particular destination in mind. None of them were experienced trackers, so even if they did pick up a trail it would be far too late by the time they reached the end of it– given that they didn’t lose it in the process, anyway. Still, if the students managed to stay ahead of their pursuers and made for the village in question, she doubted there would be any soldiers nearby. Even with half a dozen men the bandits could present a dire threat against a few able-bodied locals armed with farm tools, and evil men were wont to do evil acts against those who cannot defend themselves. Byleth steeled herself with her vow to protect the faithful until the Goddess within her fully revived.

They passed through the clearing onto the wide and winding dirt path, the snapping of reigns sending their steeds into full gallop through the forested foothills. The last vestiges of the setting sun had faded and left the path towards the village blanketed in the shadows of the woodlands, yet still they pressed on at a blistering pace. The air about them was gravely tense with unspoken apprehension. After what felt like an endless stretch of time blanketed in darkness, Byleth glimpsed a faint reddish gleam peaking through the thicket as they rounded it and the acrid scent of smoke began to defile and thicken the night air.

The sight that greeted them was just as Byleth had feared. Several structures of wood, stone, and thatch were engulfed in ravenous flame, some already beginning to collapse in on themselves in a shower of red embers. As they rounded the bend Byleth abruptly pulled at her reins and her horse slid along the dirt in a sudden stop with a whinny, kicking up clouds of dust and shaking its head to and fro in frustration.

“That armor! It's the Knights of Seiros! Please help us!”

Before them was a crowd of people in plain colored garb stained with smoke. Some wore cloaks, some carried armfuls of all manners of household items grabbed in too much of a hurry to place in rucksacks. Their dirtied faces were somewhere between exhausted and terror-stricken. Weeping children clung to the sides of cautious parents, elders and the injured leaned on the support of the able-bodied. They looked more like refugees than people who had been living modest lives just earlier that day.

“What’s happening here?” Alois boomed, addressing the ragged group with alleviating authority. He likely already knew the answer to his own question, but asking them directly may have eased their anxieties, not to mention whatever details the villagers could share could prove more helpful than rushing in blindly. The captain had always had a gift for lifting the spirits of others, whether it was to raise morale in soldiers or soothe the apprehension of shaken civilians. Byleth could not say the same of herself, so she elected to remain quiet and scan the immediate forefront of the village for danger. She thought it strange that nobody was pursuing this band, and were it simply an accidental fire that had grown out of control then they would not have been in such a hurried flight.

“Bandits, milord!” A balding, bearded man at the front of the group answered. Brawny and broad shouldered, he appeared more composed than the rest. He tightly gripped the haft of a small broad-head hammer in one hand as an improvised weapon, suggesting he was likely a blacksmith for farming tools. “Some nobles showed up here not long ago. Said they were being chased. Hardly a moment passed before those brigands were on us. God damned noble br-” he caught his tongue, likely not wanting to disparage the nobility in front of the Knights of Seiros. Or at least Byleth had assumed as much before he spoke again, the vitriol in his voice replaced with remorse, “I… I shouldn’t speak ill of them. They told us to flee while they fought them off. They’re only kids, milord. I don’t know if…”

That explained why they weren’t being chased after.

“We’ll take care of it, don’t worry.” Alois interrupted, realizing they were precariously pressed for time. “Eugene!”. The other knight snapped from staring out at the burning village.

“Sir?” He reached for the hilt of his sword in anticipation for an order to charge in.

“Take the townsfolk back towards the camp. Byleth and I will search for the students. Survivors as well.” he added with a respectful nod towards the blacksmith.

“But sir! I-”

“That’s an order. The two of us will be enough. I need you to make sure that these fine people get to safety.”

“Understood, sir.”

Eugene swallowed his palpable disappointment and circled his horse back towards the direction they had come from. “Right then, everyone, follow me.” He started ahead, keeping his mount to a walk so that the weary and encumbered villagers could keep pace.

“If we don’t return by first light, take the students and villagers to the monastery. Send a rider ahead to inform Seteth. I’ll trust his judgement from there”

“Yes sir.”

The blacksmith stopped at Alois’s side and bowed his head. “Thank milord, Remire is indebted to you.”

Alois briefly looked discomforted by the display of deferential gratitude but took no pause to address it. As all the townsfolk began to shuffle away, Alois gave a sober glance. Byleth nodded in unspoken understanding, dismounting her horse as her companion did the same. They would cover ground more quickly on horseback but there were two major issues with that approach that both immediately understood. Firstly, they were packhorses, not warhorses, and so they were not trained for combat and would be panicked by the fire and shouting. Secondly, neither of them were particularly skilled riders in combat. Byleth had never used her Relic on horseback before either, and trying now would likely be disastrous. They proceeded on foot with weapons drawn, braced for whatever they might find.

Unhindered by armor, Byleth kept ahead of the captain and surveyed her surroundings with swift intensity. Most of the buildings had not yet caught fire. They probably didn’t aim to burn the entire village down, Byleth thought to herself. More likely the bandits had either set the fires to literally smoke out the students, or maybe to scatter the villagers before they could mount any meaningful resistance, leaving them to keep pursuing their targets unimpeded. The open grounds between the village’s buildings were littered with debris, overturned barrels and carts, and various common items likely abandoned in panic. Amongst the ruinous scene Byleth spotted the distinct shape of bodies a short distance away. She counted three sprawled out on the ground, motionless, as she approached. Two were dressed similarly, in the same manner of earth-toned cotton and wool of the villagers they had encountered before– one a woman splayed on her back with a deep gash hacked into her shoulder past her collarbone, and the other a man with a face dashed into a grotesque and fractured mess. The third body, however, stood out. He wore a shoddy assortment of thick furs and worn leather and at his side was a hand axe, its head caked in blood and viscera. Stranger still was the wound that likely killed him– a spear driven nearly all the way through his chest, its shaft snapped at the entrance wound. She found the remaining piece splintered on the ground nearby. She doubted this was the work of one of the villagers. The spear was too well made to belong to any common militia, and the strength it would take to force it so far into the brigand that it would catch on his ribs and shatter… well that was another matter entirely.

“Did you find something?” Alois hastened to her side and grimaced at the sight of the maimed villagers, his eyes forlorn.

“The students might still be alive” Byleth spoke up, cutting off any moment for Alois to dwell on the fact that they were too late to save these two. Alois responded with a solemn nod, tearing his eyes away from the gruesome scene at their feet. Byleth gave them one final glance. “May they find peace with the Goddess.” An affectless blessing said more out of ingrained formality than anything else. Whether she was a fragment jutting from the depths of a dormant conscious or merely an eidolon possessed of illusory self, it mattered little. As an imperfect proxy she could not offer salvation to the departed; limited to what was immediately tangible to her. She could only protect the lives and faith of the living as best she could. That was Rhea’s wish, the purpose bestowed upon her, until the Progenitor was fully realized. That was, if… She forced her mind clear of those idle thoughts.

The pair had barely pressed farther into the village before they heard a clamor of shouts and clashing steel. Again Byleth ran ahead, outpacing her heavily equipped companion as she deftly vaulted over a squat dry stone fence and rounded the width of a timber-framed hall house towards the noise on the other side. She found herself at the head of wide and weathered stone steps descending into a spacious opening encircled by the rest of the village. In the open square below a furious skirmish was already unfolding.

Among the scattered bodies of the dead, three men dressed in similar leather and furs of the dead bandit from before warily circled their opponent with worn iron swords and hand-axe ready to strike. The young man they faced, though his blood stained uniform was rent with scores and his deep azure shoulder cape was torn to inelegant tatters, there was no mistaking that he was one of the students they were searching for. He struggled for breath in his fatigue left arm hung lamely at his side and in his other hand he clutched a small belt knife, already drenched in blood. Even with their numbers and his injuries, the bandits seemed hesitant to rush in towards the younger man. One of the bodies behind him shifted helplessly on the ground with an agonized groan, clutching at his gut. Evidently they had already tried that tactic. Despite his apparent nobility and youth, the boy brought to mind the image of a cornered predator in the almost feral bearing to his taut form, ready to bite and claw until the very end. Byleth had little doubt that the broken lance from before had belonged to him.

In an abrupt lurch of movement, the axeman bore down on him from the side of his bad arm. His swing was wide and his movements were clumsy; something the predator was quick to exploit. He sprung off of his backfoot, driving his damaged shoulder into the axeman’s sternum. The forward momentum of the blow knocked the bandit off balance, landing stiffly on his back, his weapon jarred from his grip, with the blonde-haired boy toppling over with him. He wasted no time, plunging his knife into the axeman’s throat before he could recover from the shock of the impact. Byleth was already halfway toward them in a sprint, so far unnoticed, when the other two leapt at the opportunity to fall upon their enemy. She planted a foot forward and shifted her balance, boots skating along the dirt, bringing her to a complete halt as she coiled her sword arm back. She thrusted the sword forward with a shout and it lanced forth like a monstrous serpent set ablaze, rapidly lengthening as the blade split into a sectioned chain. Marauder and student alike stared wide-eyed, startled by Byleth’s battlecry and mystified by what they beheld in that split second before the Relic skewered its target. The man was knocked off his feet by the sheer force of the impact, the blade plunging through his body as if he were a rotten melon struck by an arrow. With a flick of her wrist, the razor-edged ribbon pulled free from the slain enemy with ease before his body even hit the ground, retracting as quickly as it had struck, back into the form of a solid sword.

“Fuck. FUCK!” The remaining attacker abandoned all interest in his quarry and broke into a mad sprint, seeking the nearest escape from the sudden reversal of danger. Heat kindled in Byleth’s chest as she channeled her crest to her blade again, preparing to strike down the fleeing bandit before he could dart out of view, yet before she could loose her razor levin he stumbled to the ground, clutching at his throat. She noticed the shaft of arrow with a tail of golden-yellow jutting from the side of the now dead man’s neck as she drew cautiously closer. On impulse she scanned her surroundings in search of whatever marksman had taken down their target with such expert precision. It was likely they weren’t an enemy, but if not, they held a clear advantage with her and the student in such an open space. As she did, a clanging racket grew closer to her side, all too familiar to necessitate a glance.

“You really need to stop running ahead like that, you know I can’t take those sorts of shortcuts in this armor” Alois huffed as he came to a stop. He took stock of the aftermath of the skirmish from the bodies to the young man now wearily rising to his feet, the bestial air about him replaced with apparent exhaustion. “Oh! You found one of them! Thank the Goddess, for a minute there I was worried to death-”

“Hey, you!” Byleth eyes shot up towards the new voice. Leaning out the second floor window of what looked to be an inn (judging by the The Roosting Wyvern painted in bold red letters on a wooden signpost hanging over the entrance) was another dressed in a student uniform. He shot them a friendly grin along with a nonchalant wave, as if he were greeting visitors instead of just felling a man. “I’m going to guess you’re our rescue party. I was starting to worry that I made a mistake in expecting anyone to show up.”

“Claude!” The blond-haired man shot an agitated glare up at his peer. “I was worried you had made off somewhere, or worse”

“Don’t worry yourself, your princeliness. I had you covered, I was just waiting for the right moment before-” he gestured a hand towards Byleth and Alois. “Well, all of that just happened.”

“And what if they had spotted you and trapped you up there?”

“I had an escape route planned out just for that” Claude shrugged. He gave a demonstration, climbing out the window and leapt onto the wood plank awning just beneath it. He crouched towards its front and hoisted himself off, catching the edge in a grip and using the movement to swing himself nimbly to the stoop below. “Besides,” he continued as he approached them, “I only have a few arrows left. Need to make them count.” Unlike the other student, Claude didn’t seem to be any worse for wear. His bronzed features were unblemished and absent of even a single drop of sweat, and the state of his baggy uniform suggested that he had at least hadn’t suffered any surface-level injuries. He possessed a leisurely demeanor about him, but the way he studied her in quick, aloof glances did not go unnoticed by Byleth.

“What matters is that you’re safe, I’m glad we got here in time” Alois interjected, pressing his palm to his forehead with a sigh of relief. “Though I have to commend you both for risking your lives for the townspeople, we ran into some folks escaping when we arrived and I had them escorted back to the camp. You really lived up to your status as part of the gentry, because that was quite... a _noble_ deed!” he guffawed. The others looked at him with blank stares. Alois raised a first to his mouth and cleared his throat, abashed by his failed attempt to bring some semblance of levity to the group.

The more sullen of the two students looked the least amused. Byleth caught him looking over the stilled bodies of bandits and villagers alike scattered about them. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, Claude, I suppose my nerves got the better of me. I didn’t mean to accuse you of abandoning us.”

“Don’t worry about it, Dimitri, let’s just call it even for you rushing in so recklessly before I could come up with a plan.” Claude responded with a smirk. “I was convinced that you were going to get yourself killed.”

Byleth, paying no attention to the exchange, calmly approached the man apparently named Dimitri. He turned his head to regard her, a lost, pained look to his deep blue eyes. “Ah, I apologize, I haven’t thanked you for saving my life.” He forced a warm smile. “I’m Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, even in these circumstance it's a pleasure to meet you.” He held his good hand out to her.

“The other one.” she responded flatly. Dimitri’s expression scrunched slightly in confusion. “Your other arm. It’s injured. May I?”

Awkwardly straying his eyes from hers, he shifted his body to bring his injured arm closer to her. Byleth promptly held both her hands to the deep gash through his sleeve just below below the shoulder. She assessed the wound in silence, which, along with her untroubled closeness, made Dimitri fidget with unease. Whatever had caused the damage had cut deep and hit with a lot of force, having torn into the deepest layers of tissue with an impact that fractured the bone beneath. The maneuver he pulled just moments ago likely worsened it. She focused herself on the open wound, willing bright tendrils of warm magic to weave through from her hands deep into the gash. Slowly the torn flesh knitted together with a life of their own, closing the laceration until nothing but a large red scar remained. “The bone is still fractured, we’ll need to make a sling. Don’t strain it.”

“Ah, I- thank you” he replied sheepishly, still averting his gaze from the fixated scrutiny of her own.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. You should sit down until we leave” she added, noting that when people behaved in such a way that it was usually accompanied by reddened cheeks, yet none broke through the pallor of his face.

“R-right, of course.”

“So,” Claude interjected, moving in on the two with a disarming grin. His sharp emerald eyes examined the sword now fastened to her belt as much as they regarded her. “I’m Claude von Riegen, grandson of Duke Reigen of the Alliance, and now that we’ve both introduced ourselves- well normally I’d ask the same of you, but I think I might have an-”

“Wait,” Dimitri abruptly cut off Claude's sly inquiry. “Edelgard isn’t with you, is she?”

Byleth tilted her head expecting further explanation, but it was Alois who spoke up with an alarmed howl.

“Three students! I was so relieved to find you two I forgot there was one more!” He glanced around the village center in a panic, as if the unaccounted person would simply show up right then.

“The two of you came directly from camp, right? So you must have gone through the northern gate” Claude gestured towards the steps Byleth had descended when she approached the fighting. “All three of us were here in the square when the attack started, but we were separated in all of the confusion. If you didn’t find her on your way to here then she might have gone towards the southern gate.” He pointed to an opening between two shops at the edge of the square which gave way to another set of stone steps that descended further through the village. “Or she might have hid somewhere. That’s what I’d do if I my odds weren’t looking good”

“You know she isn’t like that, Claude.” Dimitri countered in clear exasperation.

“Then we should start by heading to the gate.” Alois tried to take control of the conversation again. “Shoot, we can’t just leave you two here by y-”

“I’m fine!” Dimitri spoke up over Alois, an effort that brought him nearly to a shout, his voice taut with distress. “Claude and I will come w-”

“Stay here.” Byleth interrupted, her stony tone of voice leaving no quarter for further argument despite not being nearly as loud as the others. There was a mission to complete and she had already assessed her necessary course of action, they couldn’t waste any time arguing over it. “Alois, stay with them in case more bandits appear. I’ll be faster on my own.” Alois looked as if he wanted to disagree but instead relented with a troubled nod. With nothing further to say, Byleth took off in the direction Claude had pointed out.

She considered her next move as she darted down the path, which seemed to run at a steady downward slope between the interspersed collection of houses on either side. If it ran downhill all the way to the gate, she mused, then she might be able to survey the entire area from a vantage. The buildings weren’t too close together so not much would be blocked from vision from higher up. She made for one of the houses without breaking pace. Mid-sprint, she planted one foot on the face of its stone brick wall and pushed off, propelling herself just high enough to catch the edge of the roof. She pulled herself up with a heavy grunt, boots scraping against the wall to take some of the load of her own weight off of her arms. She dragged herself forward further onto the sloped surface until most of her body was prone across the wooden planks. She crawled up the incline on both hands and feet, carefully distributing her weight lest the aging timber give out beneath her, until she reached the roof’s apex. She took stock of the vista, straining her eyes against the dark of night. She could see the gate in the distance, which was little more than a wide gap in a wall made of earth, bridging one steep rocky slope that enclosed the village to the other on the opposite side. Its rough-hewn palisade doors, illuminated on either side by large braziers, were thrown wide open. Aside from that she could not make out anything; no motion, no shouts or sounds of any kind. She didn’t even see any sign of remaining villagers, though she could not be certain they had all fled or if some had holed up in their houses hoping to be overlooked by the marauders. She waited moments longer, stilling her breath, hoping to catch even the slightest noise to give her an idea of what direction she should investigate.

Nothing.

She had taken a gambit and had nothing to show for it but wasted time. She couldn’t allow herself such a setback, she couldn’t… Realization struck her and she drew her gaze back to the crude gate. The doors were open, yet given the narrow confines of the valley, both bandits and students would have had to enter through the northern gate. None of the structures on this side of the village were burning either. Though it was highly possible that some of the townsfolk had opened the gate to make their escape, the chance of the remaining student retreating beyond the village walls was better than any other possibility she could think of given that she couldn’t make out any manner of commotion within them from where she perched. She crawled back down to the edge of the roof and landed into a crouch on the ground. She had no choice but to continue down the path and look for a lead from there.

As she approached the gate she sighted the distinct shape of another body just before it, cast in flickering light by the flames of the wrought-iron braziers above. What looked like a large weapon jutted out from the slumped form at an angle. She slowed to a jog as she drew closer, coming to a stop just a few feet away. She felt a faint pang of relief in her core as she realized it wasn’t the missing student. A glassy-eyed face of a grizzled, square-jawed man stared past her into nothingness, his mouth agape in permanent shock, a formidable looking two-handed axe embedded firmly in a tarnished iron breastplate that lay beneath a ragged fur shawl. The bandit must have looted the piece of armor some time ago, given how poorly maintained it looked. Byleth gave the head of the axe a solid nudge with her foot. For what little good it did him, she thought. The axe had caved in the rust-spotted armor and found lethal purchase deep within the flesh and bone of his chest. She gave the axe another kick and noted that it was well anchored to the man. If the axe belonged to the other student, Edelgard, as she recalled, then she could hazard a guess that the student had to abandon their weapon after it lodged in its target, meaning they were beset by more enemies than just this one. But if they weren’t here, then what direction could they have gone? It was difficult to see farther along the edge of either earth-packed wall with the nearby lighting, but if the student had managed to lead their pursuers this far then Byleth doubted they’d run along them at the risk of getting themself cornered. Through the gate, then? She stepped through the threshold and onto the broad plank bridge that spanned a man made trench which ran beneath the entirety of the wall (A very effective makeshift defense given what little material the village must have had on hand), which she peered down into on both sides of the platform to be sure she was not missing anything below her feet. Beyond that stretched vast wilderness; rolling stone hills and sporadic copses of trees. She heard the sound of flowing water to her right and could vaguely make out the shimmering surface of what must have been a river in the faint, clouded moonlight. There was no sign of the missing student, nor any bandits or further hints of fighting. Venturing out into the valley would be a poor option, it was far too much ground to cover on her own, especially on a darkened night such as this. Yet she couldn’t just abandon her search. There had to be more she could do, it was unacceptable to fall short of-

A not so distant rumbling sound compelled her buzzing mind back into singular focus. She squinted through the murk towards the direction it came from– from the direction of the river, leading further away from the village. She broke into another sprint, willing herself to ignore her exhaustion for the sake of accomplishing her aim. The dark outline of a structure quickly came into view as she closed in and with it grew a boorish racket of shouting.

“-you for that, you uppity bitch!” The source of the howl was a stocky brute of a man, garbed in ragged leathers and pelts. She could barely make out his face beneath his shaggy mane of hair, but she didn't need to see much to read his feverish outrage. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed his battle axe off the ground beside him, links of metal chain adorning his body clinking as he did. He began climbing over a jumble of large timber logs that lay haphazardly between himself and a wooden ramp that led up to what appeared to be a sawmill set at the edge of the river. By the state of him, they looked as if they had been pushed down the incline and he had been caught in their tumble. Standing upon the platform above him was a woman, her hair a shade of brilliant white that caught the eye even in the dusk, a red mantle similar to the ones Dimitri and Claude wore was clasped to the shoulder of a uniform that marked her as the student of the Officer’s Academy. Realizing that she had not failed in her charge, Byleth felt a soft pang of relief. The brute still cursed violently at his foe and the sudden obstacle between them and failed to notice Byleth as she neared, but the girl spotted her like a hawk. Byleth couldn’t gauge her obscured expression through the dark, but a sharp step backwards betrayed her surprise, followed by a sharp hiss of pain. She would check her for injuries afterwards. All that mattered was that the student was still alive and standing, and that the pressing priority was dispatching her attacker.

Byleth clutched the grip of her weapon and pulled it free of the straps that held it. The blade once again came to life, repelling the shadows about them in a blazing glow. The raucous man, squinting against the assaulting light, finally espied her, his vulgar threats dying in his throat.

“What in the hell? Who the fuck-” He quickly shut up, his grisly features contorting in fear as he grasped the threat the newcomer and her chillingly unnatural weapon presented . “Shit!” He broke into a wild run towards the thicket in the near distance. With a flick of her wrist the Relic unwound into a lash with a metallic rattle. After the sins these men had committed it would be impermissible to allow him to escape. She twisted her body into a swing and the sword ripped through the air with a crackling hum, reaching across the gap between them in a blur of dazzling light. He tumbled to the ground with an excruciated cry, the spray of blood from his legs resembling foul ichor in the spectral reds and orange casted by her relic. His howls of pain continued without pause as she walked towards him, assessing his condition as she neared. He lay there writhing on his back, the slash had cleanly severed both legs just below the knee, blood escaping the dismembered limbs in torrents. “W-wait” his wails reduced to delirious sobs and his visage dripping with something between terror, hatred, and desperation. “We were-” he choked on his words in a spasm, “We… it wasn’t… he…” his voice waned, his words leaden, eyes distant. He was going into shock. With treatment, his injuries wouldn’t be fatal.

_“Men given to abhorrent wickedness are beyond forgiveness among the living”_

Looking blankly down at the blubbering man, she raised her blade in a tight grip-

_“Only in death may their souls find absolution”_

And her justice fell upon him.

❁

Edelgard stared in shock at the scene that played out before her. Her plan had gone horribly awry from the start. She hadn’t expected to be closest to the bandits’ ambush. She hadn’t planned to be immediately beset upon before she could distance herself from the onslaught. She hadn’t planned to get swept up in a chase along with Dimitri and Claude, forced to flee through the forest all the way to Remire, hadn’t readied to be caught in the bloody havoc of a village raid. Least of all, she hadn’t expected this frighteningly cryptic woman who wielded destructive annihilation in her palm, a Relic she had only seen in illustration, a weapon she had at times suspected to be another myth constructed by the Church. A relic that lit the night with an ethereal blaze, that flared in sparks of fury as it severed Kostas’s neck in a swift, affectless stroke from its wielder.

She hadn’t the capacity to feel some small relief in knowing that the oaf wouldn’t have the chance to reveal his employer or the mission he had been tasked with. In her awe she had even forgotten the throbbing pain from the gash on her thigh, and despite the rising trepidation that squeezed at her throat, she could not tear her gaze from the wraith-like being that approached her, cast again in shadow after the glow of her Relic had faded.

As the unknown yet somehow disquietingly familiar stranger stepped over the disarray of logs that had impeded Kostas in Edelgard's attempt to evade him just moments ago, two nearly forgotten recollections abruptly surfaced in her mind. It wasn’t just her likeness to _that_ woman. She had actually seen this woman before, in a brief glimpse from a distance as they had set out from the monastery– strands of celadon hair whipped by the gusts of morning wind, gone in an instant as the shuffling of classmates obscured her view and the outriders blazed ahead of the rest of the travelling party, leaving her to wonder if the sun had merely been playing tricks on her eyes.

The other was a brief footnote she barely paid attention to while going over gathered reports on the Church with her retainer, trying to parse out falsehoods and glean what they could from obscured half-truths to assess what they must anticipate in the myriad of ways that events could turn for or against them.

_“A mysterious woman who appeared from the heavens with a weapon of unimaginable power, seen only once nearly four years ago, she extinguished dozens of formidable knights, enemies of the Church, in the blink of an eye. Saint Seiros returned, it says, to walk to land once more to punish the wicked sins of the unfaithful, leaving only ashes in her wake.” Hubert pinched the bridge of his nose as he set the parchment aside. “Frankly, Lady Edelgard, the sources are vague and unreliable, I doubt it to be little more than hearsay, that we needn’t waste our time in light of the host of actual threats we face. There’s little point in chasing the idle tales of this so-called Ashen Saint.”_

“You’re injured.” The fable made flesh addressed her flatly. Edelgard swallowed, a harrowing chill settling in her stomach. This person unnerved her. “Here.” The woman extended her hand. Edelgard flinched at the movement and immediately cursed herself at the unconscious lapse in composure. The woman tilted her head in question, but those eyes remained blank, the glass eyes of a doll cast in brilliant jade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took longer than I expected because
> 
> 1) I'm a slow writer and needlessly deliberate
> 
> 2) I revised some elements of this chapter several times
> 
> 3) the meds I take hamper my word recall. It’s agony for a writer 
> 
> 4) Ya girl got covid. I'm fine atm though, my housemate is in worse shape. 
> 
> I kinda half-assed the proofreading because I was so impatient to post this. The first chapter was basically just a prologue and I wanted to put out something that would actually set the story forth. I just really wanted to get this posted if and before my symptoms get too bad to write anything  
> Also I'm bad at html so bear with me if I fiddle with it a bunch. Hopefully the little touches I try to make don't screw up the formatting
> 
> Please feel free to share what you think! this is my first work so I appreciate feedback
> 
> PS: Hope the POV change was alright. AFAIK I'm only planning on using Byleth and sometimes El as POV characters throughout the story. Maybe Rhea or Hubert once or twice.


	3. Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: You might notice Petra's speech patterns are slightly different. With the country name "Brigid" and the last name "Macneary" I thought Gaelic would be a perfect fit, and I happen to speak it. Imagining how a Gaelic speaker who doesn't know English well was difficult though, but I tried my best. Just my own little personal touch and it feels a bit more natural like her Japanese lines without changing too much. 
> 
> I love languages, if you can’t tell

### 

  


❁

  


### 

It had been a slow and grueling march from Remire as the five of them being too many for the horses to carry. Even with her wounds being treated and closed, Edelgard had to actively fight the ache of fatigue that threatened to claim her body. She hated to admit as much, but she was grateful that Alois and his companion in service of the Church– Byleth Eisner, as she had introduced herself– had insisted that she and Dimitri ride back on their mounts since they had been the only two who were actually injured that night. They had both refused at first, but their escorts would not relent on the matter, which ultimately spared Edelgard her pride in not being over eager to accept the offer to rest as well as not having to risk collapsing from exhaustion on the throughway. She had gotten little sleep the night before the trip and she couldn’t deny that it would strain anyone’s body to race miles through thick brush and punishing hills only to engage in a feverish skirmish thereafter. Yet a dreadful feeling of foreboding clung thick to her throat. She chanced a glance at the mysterious woman walking ahead of the group– locked in a seemingly one-side conversation with the captain. Byleth. She pondered the name, as if it would relinquish answers if she wrung it tightly enough. 

It wasn’t that she had known nothing of the woman before coming to Garreg Mach– the adopted daughter of the archbishop wasn’t exactly well-known, but it was far from a secret. A reclusive girl occasionally seen about Garreg Mach, Byleth held no official position within the Church, the Knights of Seiros, or the Officer’s academy, and, at least publicly, did not take part in any of their affairs. However, the verdant shades of her hair and eyes, a striking resemblance to the archbishop herself, were the telltale signs that she was one of the so-called children of the Goddess, inhuman beings who effectively wielded complete power over Fódlan from the far-reaching shadow of the Church. The true nature of the archbishop was a given, and her _associates_ held understandable suspicions about her closest advisor and the sister he had moved to the monastery just a year ago. The dossier on this “Byleth”, however, held a lot more open questions. The official story was that she was the daughter of a nun who lived and served at Garreg Mach and the former Captain of the Knights of Seiros. The mother was said to have died in childbirth and the father vanished just a few weeks later, and so the archbishop adopted the child. Apparently her stated reason for her unusual closeness to Byleth was that the nun was a distant relative of hers and she had held the captain in very high regard. Edelgard wondered just how much truth there was in that story. According to her contact within the Church, though detestably secretive as he was in most matters, a child had indeed been born to the captain and a nun and had grown up under the care of the Archbishop for the past twenty years. What was curious was the fact that according to him, Seteth and Rhea had not changed in appearance in the slightest throughout all their observation, and yet Byleth had grown and aged quite normally. Even more strange was that anyone who had been present at the monastery for the past two decades would say that the woman had been dark teal of hair with blue eyes as a child and hadn’t taken on those shades of green until just a few years ago. Despite all the information that had been divulged to her, Edelgard supposed there was still much to be learned about the exact nature and biology of these monsters. Other than those peculiarities, her associates, as well as Hubert and herself, speculated that the archbishop’s ward was of about as much consequence as Flayn– potentially one of Rhea’s ilk but certainly not as much of a priority as the archbishop herself. Or at least, that’s how she had felt until what she had witnessed that night. Edelgard stole another look at Byleth and the weapon that hung at her hip. There was no mistaking that that sword was a Heroes’ Relic, and one that did not match any of the known Relics held by the bloodlines of the Ten Elites in the Kingdom or the Alliance. She would have to confirm her suspicions when she returned to the monastery (Which probably meant yet another sleepless night ahead of her, she thought drearily), but she was almost certain that the weapon was none other than the blade of the King of Liberation– the Sword of the Creator. She could scarcely believe it possible that the legendary Relic, lost for over a millennia, was right here before her eyes, strapped to this woman’s belt as if it were no more than any other sword. But there was no doubt in her mind that what she saw earlier when it had flared to life and cut Kostas down as easily as a sickle reaps rye. She had never heard of any of the Children wielding Heroes’ relics, and for Byleth to wield it must mean she possessed _that_ crest. How could that even be possible? She placed a hand over her chest, unbidden images of her scars came to mind. The more she considered the riddle before her the deeper her tumultuous contemplations grew. She would have to consult Hubert when she returned to the monastery, and possibly, send a missive to-

“Quite an enchanting beauty, wouldn’t you say?” Edelgard abruptly split from her thoughts. Claude had sauntered up next to her, fixing on her with a mischievous grin eclipsed by the hidden deviousness behind his eyes. Her face grew warm as the implications of his teasing caught up to her. She hastily dispelled the flustering notion. He was trying to get a reaction out of her, and she doubted his intentions were simply an innocuous jest. 

“What do you want, Claude?” A hint of irritation had seeped into exhaustion.

“A bit touchy, aren’t we, Princess?” he smirked. “It’s been a long walk, you can’t blame me for wanting a bit of chit-chat to pass the time.”

“Then you’re better off speaking to the captain. I’m sure he’ll be happy to indulge you.”

Claude chuckled. “Truth be told, I’m far more interested in talking to Ms. Eisner, but alas, I already tried bending her ear a bit when we left Remire. She’s pretty tightlipped.” He turned his attention from Edelgard to assess the woman ahead of them. “Or maybe that’s not the right word.” he mused with a sigh. “It’s more like she doesn’t seem to have any interest in anything around her. She’s even harder to read than you are.”

Edelgard had noticed Claude being quick to cozy up to Byleth and it was hardly surprising that his motives lied in his incessant curiosity. Dimitri, on the other hand, seemed less amiable than his usual self. He hadn’t said a word to anyone since they had set out.

“I’m sure you’re curious about her too.” Claude continued, ignoring the intentional hint in Edelgard’s dismissive tone. “That Relic of hers, I’ve never heard of anything like it. You wouldn’t happen to have any idea what it is, would you?”

“No, I’ve never heard of such a thing, but it _is_ curious to say the least.” A half-lie. Claude was too perceptive for anyone’s good, she had to be cautious around him. He might have made a useful accomplice for sleuthing for information, but she couldn’t trust anyone, least of all someone as seemingly self-motivated as him. Regardless, Hubert was more than capable of handling that task.

###### 

The sky had begun to lighten to a dim blue when they arrived at their destination, announcing the coming of daybreak. The camp was abuzz with dispirited activity as knights and students alike prepared to embark back to Garreg Mach, uneasy exhaustion apparent on their faces. Alois had said that he had given orders for the knights to return the students and village refugees to Garreg Mach should he not return by morning, otherwise they would be more or less stranded until a company of knights was sent back to the area, and so it was fortunate that their group had made it back just in time despite their slowed pace. Several students closest to their approach turned to gawk at them and exchange hushed whispers. No doubt there had been a tempest of anxious rumors abound with the class leaders’ disappearance, and by the drained look about them, she imagined very few of them could bring themselves to sleep after the bandit attack had put everyone on edge. Alois advised them to find and gather their things and check with the supply wagon for medical supplies to treat their injuries. Unsurprisingly, Byleth broke off from the group without a word. Edelgard noticed the way students stared after her in wonderment as she passed through. They must have seen her fight with her Relic here in the camp during the initial attack. If her possession of a Relic had been a secret before, it certainly wouldn’t be anymore. At least this provided a clear opportunity to assess the way the Church– no, the archbishop, responded to the fallout. 

“Edelgard!” a familiarly spirited voice called out.

She sighed. She was far too exhausted to entertain the barrage of questions she knew were about to be thrown at her. With legs aching in protest, she wearily dismounted her horse and turned towards her classmate. He practically sprinted towards her, his uniform begrimed with dirt and his sky-colored hair contained a collection of forest debris. Despite the heavy atmosphere of collective fatigue, he still had more than enough excited energy to compensate.

“I knew you’d make it back! You gotta tell me about what happened! I was so caught up fighting bandits that I didn’t even realize you had gone missing! You should have seen me in action! I only had a woodcutting axe but that didn’t stop me! Those bandits would have thought twice about attacking us! I mean, any of them that might have been left anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Caspar, but I’m very tired and I need to gather my things before we depart.” His excessive excitement could be trying at times, but she certainly couldn’t endure it as she was, and with all that transpired last night. Her exhaustion bore down on her as she was once again reminded of how much work she had ahead of for the rest of the day, with her only consolation being that it was sunday, and so there would be no classes and she could afford to sit out on just one lecture.

If Caspar was at all crestfallen by her lack of shared enthusiasm, he didn’t show it. “Oh, right, well, did you at least see that girl? The one with the green hair? She went with the other knights to go rescue you, right? Did you see her weapon? It was definitely a Heroes’ Relic! You should have seen it! She destroyed those bandits like they were nothing!”

Edelgard racked her brain for a response that would satisfy the boy enough that he’d leave her be, but to her relief another classmate approached them, hopefully giving her a chance to take her leave.

“Edelgard!” Petra waved them down. 

She looked as unbothered by the state of things as Caspar was, though with composed alertness in comparison. She was likely used to long nights with little sleep thanks to her upbringing. Brigid, an archipelago that was now a vassal of the Empire, was a strange country compared to most of Fódlan. Despite being royalty in her own right, Petra had a wealth of practical experience that made her more than at home in the wilderness in a way that Adrestian nobles certainly could not relate to. 

“I am in relief that you are safe. I was in worry that we left before you return.”

“I appreciate your concern, Petra.” Edelgard replied with a weak smile.

“Oh, I almost forgot! I went ahead and put your satchel in the carriage since we had to pack up your tent.” Caspar chimed in.

“Thank you, Caspar, that was very thoughtful of you. Now, I apologize, but I need to take care of some things before we set out. We can speak more once we’re back at the monastery and rested. Good-bye.” She left her classmates as briskly as her worn-out body would allow, lest she get further entangled in conversation. It was fortunate that Caspar and Petra were the only students among her closest classmates that had joined her on the trip. If everyone else had been present then she might have arrived back at the monastery even more exhausted than she was now. 

Gathering her things wasn’t much trouble. She had brought very little with her on the trip; just her axe plus the few personal items that Caspar had already taken care of. Everything that was supplied to her by the academy had already been gathered and packed away by other students along with most everything else in the camp, thankfully leaving little for her to do but ready herself for departure. Though only the knights had their own horses, there were few enough students that they had been able to fit comfortably into two horse-drawn carriages for the trip. It would be a relief to be able to sit for a few hours, though she doubted her mind would get the rest that her body would.

###### 

The other students seated in the carriage, as well as the slight number of people from Remire that had been volunteered by their more capable neighbors to not return to their devastated homes, had little inclination towards idle chatter during the return trip, as most were nearly as exhausted as Edelgard was. Mercifully, Caspar had engaged in an enthusiastic conversation about the attack the previous night with a student from the Golden Deer house– an absolute giant of a man with shaggy golden hair, though his name escaped her. Of the seven others in her present company, she knew Petra, Dimitri, and Dimitri’s retainer– a stone-faced and taciturn man of imposing stature with an earthy complexion and snow-white hair that marked him as a man of Duscur. Given Fódlanish attitudes towards foreigners, Duscurs had not been common in Fódlan during its existence as a small independent border nation to the far north. That was certainly more the case than ever since the misfortune that befell the nation just five years ago, its people decimated and its land annexed by House Kleiman of Faerghus. As Edelgard understood, Dimitri had rescued the man during the conflict, and since the school year had started he had always been by the prince’s side. It was a peculiarity that this year’s class at the Officers’ Academy had not only the heir apparent of each nation of Fódlan but also more foreign students than likely any year before it, even if they were still exceedingly few. There were also a fair number of commoners in attendance as well, she mused, though nearly every one of them had only been able to enroll by means of family wealth or connections to the nobility. Nearly a thousand years and this was the sum of the Church’s progress, just a handful of conditional exceptions for those outside of the established nobility. Though was a world trapped in stasis really any surprise when leadership never changed hands?

“-and if you follow the path down that way through Magdred you’d reach Gaspard territory in just a couple of days.” On the carriage bench opposite of Edelgard a student leaned over the rail, pointing down a fork in the throughway with boyish excitement. Judging by the way he hovered around Dimitri and his retainer throughout the trip Edelgard figured he was a student in the Blue Lions’ class. He lowered himself back to his seat and the cheerful expression on his freckled face shrunk immediately upon noticing that neither of his classmates were paying any particular attention. For the entirety of yesterday’s trip Edelgard couldn’t recall every overhearing the Duscur man speaking a word, but Dimitri’s dismal mood was in stark contrast to how he had been before the bandit attack. The unfocused and distant look in his pale-blue eyes could have been blamed on the hardships of the previous night and the lack of rest that came with it, and he certainly did look as much given the dark circles that stained his face, yet Edelgard could not shake the feeling that there was more to it than just exhaustion.

“Are you from Gaspard?” Petra spoke up, providing some relief from the despondent pause. The boy roused from staring at the carriage floor, sage tinted eyes nonplussed behind his mess of pewter hair. 

“Y-yes.” A slight blush spread across his cheeks as he struggled to match Petra’s steadfast gaze, his pale cheeks lending themselves to rosy vibrance. “I grew up in town just outside of Castle Gaspard. I was adopted by Lord Lonato when I was young– ah, he’s the lord of the territory. I was born a commoner.”

“Must it be nice for your home to be so close. Is Brigid… no, Brigid is greatly far from here.” Despite her difficulty with words, Petra still seemed the least timid of the two. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you were from there. I’m sorry, you must get very homesick.”

“It is not needed to take apology. I am not in Brigid for a great time.” Petra paused with a faint hum of frustration. “Edelgard, how do you say this?”

“I have not been to Brigid in a long time, or I have not lived in Brigid for a long time.” Edelgard answered. It may have been a constant endeavour to assist Petra with her Fódlandish, but she deserved that much courtesy at the very least. To practically be spirited away from her home by an invading foreign country would be devastating in it’s own right. It was only made worse by the lack of respect that Adrestian nobles had for her. To them, her only role of consequence was keeping a vassal territory in check through obediently living with House Gerth with no direct involvement in her homeland whatsoever. 

“Yes, I have not lived in Brigid for a long time, but that is not your wrong.”

“It’s probably going to be about two hours before we’re back at the Monastery. If you want, I’d like to hear about Brigid. I don’t really know much about it.” Ashe leaned in ever so slightly, nervousness quickly overtaken by polite curiosity. He probably didn’t know that the only reason that Petra was his peer in the academy was because she was more or less a glorified hostage of the Empire, otherwise he’d likely be much more hesitant to ask. He seemed like the type that made an effort to not step on anyone’s toes, which Edelgard could hardly blame him for if he grew up a commoner. Stepping out of line with the nobility could have unjust consequences for people of low birth, and here in the Officers’ academy, even as the adopted son of a minor lord, he was surrounded by people of much higher status. 

Edelgard quietly withdrew from the conversation, her thoughts turning to everything that would require her attention once they arrived at Garreg Mach– most pressingly, the matter of Byleth and the Relic she possessed.

### 

  


✵

  


### 

The reception hall was abuzz with activity and chatter as it often was at the start of the school year when students were fresh and flush with excitement, not yet weary from studies and deadlines. Unlike back in the camp or the return trip, hardly anyone glanced her way as she weaved her way through the vast and crowded hall, the Relic that had drawn so much awe and curiosity the night before now wrapped and secured along with her other things in the sizeable leather case tucked beneath one arm. She was once again a silent ghost that haunted the grounds of Garreg Mach. She preferred going unnoticed in her daily life, having no responsibilities concerning the students, clergy, or staff, and not being particularly inclined to conversation. She found it pleasant to repeat her day to day routines in undisturbed silence. However, it was possible that things could change in the coming days. Though she had done her best to avoid attention once she had returned to the camp she had been acutely aware of the eyes that lingered on her even as she rode well ahead of the students’ carriages. She had only used the Sword of the Creator in battle once before, and in that circumstance she had only been in the company of high-ranking members of the Knights of Seiros, as well as foes that had not lived to see the end of the day. In her rushed focus to protect them from the attacking bandits she had not considered the consequences of using her Relic in view of so many people. Though most of the students that attended the trip had retired to the dorms in their exhaustion, it would likely not be long before whispers spread across the monastery like wildfire. 

Of those who had witnessed her last night only Alois knew about her weapon, and as captain of the knights, he would likely be submitting a full report to Seteth soon. Byleth imagined that Rhea would prefer it if she was the one to tell her about what had transpired and that it be done immediately. It was not as if she expected any punitive consequence, afterall, she had protected the students’ lives and she knew without question that it had been the right course of action, but Rhea had previously instructed her to only use the Relic when it was absolutely necessary when perilous circumstances called for it. They had never even discussed what was to be done if her weapon and her identity as its wielder were to become known to the public and thus she hadn’t the faintest idea of what it would mean for her or her family. She felt unbearably restive without her foster mother’s guidance.

Byleth found the archbishop in the audience chamber, seated upon her cathedra with a small company of petitioners standing at a deferential distance before her. A man dressed in an extravagant deep blue tunic with accents of white and embroidery like flowering vines of gold spoke while the Archbishop listened in attentive silence. Even from where she stood and patiently waited near the chamber entrance she could clearly hear the distraught man’s words which reverberated across the capacious room. 

“-only means to placate my requests and has no real intention of providing the aid we need. If these bandit gangs continue to go unchecked throughout the summer then I’m afraid the raids on farmland could prove dire by winter’s arrival. My levies are far too meager to cover the entirety of territory and Lord Gaspard insists he hasn’t the troops to spare and Count Rowe is unwilling to dispatch soldiers so far into the outskirts of his domain. Mine may be a lesser house but we have always been pious adherents of the faith. Please, Your Holiness, I humbly beseech the Church for aid.”

In the brief few seconds of contemplation before speaking, Rhea's eyes fell upon Byleth before turning back to the entreating noble. She could not make out any detail of Rhea’s expression at the distance from which she stood or against the prismatic corona of sunlight cast from the stained glass window behind her, but she could gather that she was expected to wait for a short while longer. 

“Concerning what aid we may be able to provide, I will speak with the captain of the knights and senior officers.'' the archbishop responded with the reserved composure expected of her position. “House Bouchard has graciously supplied Garreg Mach for centuries and I will see to it that such piety is justly rewarded. I should expect that a correspondence will be sent to your estate before the week’s end. Until then I ask only for your patience. You are dismissed.”

“You have my gratitude, Your Holiness. I shall be returning to my holdings by the morrow, then.” Lord Bouchard gave a courteous bow and departed with his retinue, paying no heed towards Byleth in their efforts of stiff, dignified conduct. She couldn’t understand why most people seemed so nervous around Rhea, but she supposed that where she saw a woman brimming with warmth and affection, others only saw her status as the archbishop. 

Rhea beckoned for Byleth to come forth with a gentle smile and a graceful gesture towards the stately mahogany doors to the office situated off to the side of the chamber. Rhea raised an eyebrow when Byleth pushed the doors shut behind them. “I have something important to speak with you about.” Byleth answered.

“I see. Come, let us take a seat, then.” They settled into the opposite facing leather couches positioned in the back of the room, a low wide table placed between them, ornamented with a wide-mouthed limoge vase, which held a meticulous arrangement of white and yellow water lilies. “I had intended to ask you how your trip with the students had gone, given how soon it was after so many days of resting. I take it that something happened?”

Byleth nodded calmly. “There was a bandit attack on the camp last night. Alois should be reporting to Seteth now.”

“I see.” her expression was reserved but Byleth could see the preface of stirring thought and emotion in the depths of her viridescent eyes. “Were any of the students harmed?”

Byleth shook her head. “Some were injured but it was nothing that couldn’t be addressed with healing magic or medical attention. However…” Byleth faltered, a flash of fragmental thoughts blazed through her mind, fleeting as a shooting star. Had she miscalculated? She had done what she thought was expected of her. Had she done more harm than good? Had she set forth grave consequences for her own family?

_Failure._

“However,” Byleth pushed the tremble that threatened to rise in her throat. “I had to use the Sword of the Creator to protect them. They saw me using it.” She held her gaze tentatively to Rhea’s, almost forgetting to breathe as she waited for her reaction. The archbishop’s eyes shot wide for a brief moment before settling into neutral composure once more. For a stretch of time she seemed distant, sinking into deep thought that not even Byleth could reach. 

Rhea hummed, eyes fixed onto the flower vase between them. “Perhaps…” she began, her voice low and her words carefully deliberate. “This may be an act of providence; a path to the piece that we have been missing.” She reached her hand outwards and Byleth gingerly placed her own within it. She felt warmed when Rhea’s fingers softly closed around her own. “My mother dearly loved all living things. Perhaps it was my own mistake that I kept you shut away from the world for so long.” Puzzlement replaced the whispers of apprehension that had clouded her mind just moments ago. She firmly understood that they had been at an impasse. It had been four years since they had made any progress in further awakening the consciousness of the Goddess. Byleth had not felt any different since that moment deep beneath Garreg Mach and in the passing years she could not help but feel Rhea had become increasingly distant whenever they spoke, the far away pensiveness that often lingered in her eyes made something grip at Byleth’s chest, not unlike the dull ache of a past injury. 

“I have been considering it for some time now– Sothis had not only been a mother to me and the Nabateans. She had an unfathomable love for humanity, a sentiment that I sometimes struggle to fully grasp. Since she had arrived in this world she had devoted herself to guiding the people who lived upon it; to steer them from harmful folly and help them grow to the potential she saw within.” Byleth nodded, though more so in acknowledgement than actual understanding. She loved Rhea. She loved Seteth and Flayn, and even Alois, who only thought of her as Jeralt’s human daughter but showed her unconditional attention and care regardless. Having such an intimate feeling for every person in the world felt beyond her understanding. Especially when all she had done to those outside the confines of her life was cut down those who dared to cause harm the peace that Rhea had built.

“I would like for you to become an instructor at the Officer’s Academy.” Rhea concluded.

Byleth blinked, her head cocked to the side. “An instructor?”

“Yes,” Rhea smiled, “I think that in providing guidance to such young and unshaped minds that more of you will awaken. Of course, I do not expect you to fill the role of a house professor. I think you would do well in imparting the teachings of the Church, and since you received martial training from the Knights of Seiros without sharing any of the responsibility of the position, I will appoint you as a combat instructor as well.”

Byleth nodded in agreement without a second consideration. It was what Rhea wanted her to do, and so she would. She had been on the other side of such tutelage for nearly all of her life and had always excelled as a pupil. Mirroring what and how she had learned would be simple. “When would you like me to begin?”

“Tomorrow is the beginning of the academic week, and with the mock battle soon approaching, I think it would be timely for you to start now. However, I do not wish for you to only teach. You have so rarely spent time among humans in earnest. If we are to fully approach this promise then I ask you to spend time with your students– take your meals in the dining hall, participate in extracurricular activities along with the other professors, and spend more time out on the monastery grounds.”

Byleth silently nodded again, her thoughts finding focus in Rhea’s words.

“As for the Sword of the Creator being revealed,” Rhea continued, “I will require some time to decide how to frame this.” Her brow knitted in contemplation. “You will be safe in the monastery. For now, I ask that you say nothing about who you are. I imagine that some may suppose you are descended from Nemesis, but I cannot tolerate anyone holding such a notion.” Rhea grimaced, her first display of raw feeling since Byleth had returned to her. “It would be for the best if we repeated what we had told the knights years ago and say that you were given a revelation by the Goddess and granted your sword and crest to serve her. That would be simple enough and not too far from the truth.” Rhea released Byleth’s hand and rose to her feet. “I imagine that Seteth is beside himself with alarm by now and is undoubtedly looking for me. For now, I ask that you remain in your quarters for today and get some rest. I will take care of preparations for your new position and how we shall construct and circulate your public identity.” She held Byleth in a beatific regard as the young woman stood up. “This may truly be a blessing, my dear child. The future of Fódlan will rest in your hands once you are whole again and I have been remiss in not preparing you to lead its people sooner.”

“I understand. I’ll do all I can to be ready for that responsibility.” Byleth replied. Her tone was impassive and respectful, but in truth she felt a tinge of euphoria rise within her, the creeping sense of objectlessness she felt for some time now was finally lifting. Though, she wasn’t sure of exactly how she could best approach this, as she struggled to wrap her mind around an objective so immaterial as the hearts and minds of others. But if Rhea thought it was essential then she would devote all of herself to it. Sothis had been the protector of all of Fódlan and the faithful looked to her for guidance, and though Byleth may not have been enough to rise to such a mantle as she was, she understood that that was not her task. She needed only to play this part to the best of her ability and have faith that she would find a way to spark Sothis’s manifestation. She could not allow failure to be a possibility. She had to believe that this was the right course to fulfill her purpose.

###### 

The familiarity and privacy of her room turned out to offer very little comfort and Byleth found herself sitting at her desk rather than on the inviting plushness of her bed. Though she had not exerted herself terribly during the encounter at Remire, Byleth still felt a tinge of distress that she might fall into another deep slumber. If she did, and it was at all like the last one, then what remained of Great Tree Moon would pass her by and her new role would be delayed, and she was anxious to begin immediately. It had been a long time since she had used the Sword of the Creator to such an extent and there was no telling if it had taken some unseen toll, though her spell of rest earlier in the month had been her longest so far and she was not aware of anything she might have done that may have triggered it. Byleth mused if it was possible to simply will herself from sleeping too long. She didn’t have any other ideas, she supposed.

A soft knock came from the door as she drew the curtains over her windows, having decided to retire early in hope that she would not oversleep the next morning. She pulled the doors open to reveal a familiar diminutive girl, her porcelain face alight with bright emerald eyes and a soft, cheerful smile, her voluminous green hair fashioned into spiraling, face-framing locks that lent to her spritely appearance. “Hello, Flayn.”

“Good evening, Byleth. I hope I am not bothering you, but I was hoping to ask you about your trip.” The expressive and kind-natured girl had at first been disconcerted by Byleth’s muted demeanor but had eventually come to understand that it didn’t mark any manner of coldness. Though she had only come to the monastery a year ago, she was a member of her family, and so Byleth felt a sense of protective attachment to her.

“It’s not a bother. Come in.” Flayn took the invitation, entering Byleth’s room with a slight spring in her step, the impressive gold ribbon bows fastened to her tailored academy uniform bouncing along with her. She made herself comfortable on the edge of the bed and glanced about the dimly lit room.

“Were you about to go to sleep so early? Oh!” She raised her hand to her mouth, a pang of guilt in her eyes that just as quickly gave way to renewed curiosity. “I apologize, I did not consider that you might have been exhausted by the camping trip. Oh how I wish I could have gone too, if only father would have let me. It has been so long since I’ve spent time with others in such a way. You were planning on fishing, were you not? I would have very much liked to grill a fish over an open fire with you. I cannot recall the last time I had fish prepared in such a way.” Flayn had a tendency to ramble on about whatever held her fascination at a given moment, but Byleth hardly minded. It was easiest to talk to people who filled the conversation where she could not. 

“It was best that you hadn’t joined. The camp was attacked by bandits. Never got a chance to fish either.”

Flayn gasped. “That’s horrible! Was anyone hurt?”

Byleth shook her head. “The knights and I handled it, but it was more complicated than anyone would have preferred.” Such as the looming obstacles that would arise in the coming days, thanks to her judgements. No, Rhea would handle it, she would find a way to make it work.

“I am relieved that you were able to save everyone, yet still, those poor students must be terrified, and father must be overcome with distress.” Flayn mumbled with hushed sympathy.

“There’s more.” Byleth continued, unperturbed. “Rhea wants me to be an instructor at the Officers’ Academy.”

“An instructor?” Curiosity cracked through Flayn’s worry. “Why would she ask that of you?”

“I don’t fully understand myself. I’m sure Rhea and Seteth could explain better, once they’ve had time to speak.” Byleth shrugged. It was best that she not overthink it, there was little she could do for now. She would receive more thorough instructions soon enough. “But that’s why I’m going to bed now. My sleeping has still been somewhat erratic and I don’t want to oversleep when Rhea needs me tomorrow.”

“Oh, I see.” The girl wore a trace of disappointment, though that was once again swept away with renewed enthusiasm. “Perhaps I could sleep with you tonight? That way if I wake before you then I can make sure you don’t sleep through the morning!”

Byleth paused in quiet ponderment. She had no significant qualm with the suggestion, but she had only ever gone to bed in the company of another when she was much younger, back when Rhea had often invited her to fall asleep in her arms while she softly sung her calming lullabies. In the past few years she had grown quite accustomed to being alone whenever in her own room and now associated the space with the moments she wished to be so. 

“Um, I apologize if that was an intrusive thing to ask.” Flayn fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, her eyes now lowered. “Perhaps that was a childish-”

“That’s fine.” Byleth could tell that Flayn had been elated at the idea. The two of them had not spent much time together since she had come to the monastery, and Byleth felt a sense of contentment in seeing the girl gradually become more comfortable around her. Members of a family were supposed to support one another, and though she knew that Flayn was far older than her, Byleth felt compelled to provide her company as Rhea had done with her. The Goddess was meant to look after her children, and in her absence, tragedy had befallen them. They needed her.

“Wonderful!” Flayn exclaimed, her cheer returning to its full bloom. “I shall return later in the evening, then!” She hopped down from the heavy mattress and made towards the door, twirling around to face Byleth as she skipped out into the hallway. “Oh, though I suppose you may already be asleep by then. Would it be okay if that were the case?”

Byleth nodded. “There’s plenty of room on the bed. Shouldn’t be an issue.”

“I am pleased that is the case! And though I know you will likely be quite busy tomorrow, perhaps we could spend some time together if you are not too tired afterward?” She clasped her hands together in another spark of epiphany. “I know! I could sit with you while you fish! We can make up for missing out on doing so on the trip.”

“We can do that.”

“Splendid! I am very much looking forward to it!” With that, Flayn was gone from the doorway and the echo of her footsteps faded down the hallway.

Satisfied with the whole affair, Byleth softly shut the doors and set about dressing down before climbing into bed. As she lay beneath the heavy warmth of her duvet and found her thoughts beginning to wander. Despite the thought of sleep holding some faint apprehension just a day ago, she now felt restless waiting for it to take her into the morning– where she would receive her new focuses from Rhea. Her body eventually resigned itself to slumber, but her mind lingered in its restiveness.

###### 

_“My dear, do you recognize this throne?”_

_It towered over them both, time weathered stone bathed in virescent irradiance that reached out to the cavernous ceiling above. She was certain she had never seen it before. She was certain she had never been within the celestial depths that surrounded them. Yet something stirred within her like a forgotten memory that tugged at the very edge of her mind._

_“I’m not sure. It feels… familiar.” Her voice was little more than a murmur as she stood transfixed to the sublime vision before her. Invisible tethers pulled at her chest, reaching out towards the throne with the soft call of an unknowable song plucked upon their strings._

_“So long…” Rhea’s breath quivered with soft fever, “I have waited so very long for this day. Take the Sword of the Creator and sit upon the throne. Your destiny awaits you, my child.”_

_Byleth obeyed, her feet slowly stepping forward with a mind of their own. The sword cradled in her arms felt terribly heavy as she ascended the steps before the great stone throne but her body felt numb to the strain. Her gaze beheld the massive joined spirals engraved upon it as she reached the apex. Her thoughts grew faint and distant, engulfed in billowing fog. She felt utterly compelled to lay her hands upon the stone. It sang to her. She slowly turned around and her eyes met with Rhea’s. Her face was alight with raptures of vivid joy and the surfacing depths of longing. Byleth had never seen so much light in her eyes, had never seen that soft and gentle smile grow so wide. She had never truly realized how deeply she wished to see Rhea like this, to see the clinging shadows of grief and sadness she had slowly come to feel alongside her be finally cast away. Byleth turned back to the throne, the focus of that single reassuring feeling grounding her against the drowning cacophony that vibrated through her being. She reached for the singing stone before her, the Relic held within her arm flared with blinding ferocity, her warmth in her chest rising into a burning inferno. Her fingers brushed the cool surface. Blinding pain exploded within her skull. She felt as if her head had been pierced with a blade, agonizingly twisting deeper and deeper. Her chest felt as if had caught fire, the stone buried within threatening to consume her until she was nothing but ash. Her eyes watered with tears that streaked down her cheeks and every instinct in her being told her to flee from this excruciation, but her body was crumbling, unable to obey such base reflex. She anchored herself in her singular goal and struggled to lift herself on the throne. She had to push through– even as her body meant to collapse and burn, even as her head screamed and pleaded for the agony to stop, even as the world around her began to fade away and she was reduced to blindly following numbed muscle memory of lifting herself up– she needed to rise to meet her fate. She lurched forward against the stone as her knees met the edge of her destination, and she fell past the horizon of nothingness._

_Sensation dawned drop by drop. In those fleeting moments all was without thought. She was nobody, she was everything, she was nothing but the faint grains of touch that reached her._

_“Is it truly you?” a voice drew her from the unending darkness. A source of warmth, of feeling and familiarity. “Mother, have you truly come back to me?” the voice suppressed a sob. “I have waited so very long to be with you again. I’ve missed you so much, so much that I thought my heart would break until there was nothing left.” Droplets like warm rain upon Byleth’s skin brought awareness with them._

_Haze left her mind in thin wisps, the dull pain within fading with each throb. Gentle arms cradled her leaden body, the back of her head rested on gentle, living warmth. She was no longer on the throne, she realized, she was with… Her eyes fluttered open and above her was all the love and light in the world reflected in those tearful, emerald eyes._

_“Rhea?” The name escaped her lips in a hoarse whisper before the thought had fully formed. Yes… Rhea was holding her. She could not recall what had happened after that moment she reached the Goddess’s throne. It was the last thing she remembered. She could hardly think, she could not bring herself to attempt to move even her fingers. She felt so terribly tired, exhausted beyond anything. That didn’t matter now. She was with Rhea._

_“No…” Byleth felt Rhea’s embrace loosen– her entire body recoiled and the joy upon her face crumbled before her eyes. “It can’t… Mother, it has to be you! The rays of light, that wonderful aura… even after all this time I would never forget. I saw it..” The hopefulness in Rhea’s trembling voice verged on despair. “The vessel changed, it accepted your soul. Sothis… Mother… please, it must be you.” Rhea leaned in closer until her eyes were all that Byleth could see, holding her with such intensity as if she were peering into her furthest depths. Then all at once every trace of light left them and no longer saw her. “It was supposed to be but a step away. What could possibly be missing?” The tumultuous emotion in Rhea’s voice gave way to terribly unfamiliar coldness._

_‘Please…’ Byleth tried to speak but her voice would not obey. Shadow crept to the edges of her vision, exhaustion threatening to steal her away. ‘Please, Rhea… the throne.’ Rhea’s gaze abandoned her, drifting somewhere far away from her, from their surroundings. The distant expression she wore was unbearable. She couldn’t exist like this. ‘Put me back on it... I was so close… please put me back.’ She couldn’t. She couldn’t._

_“None of the others showed anywhere near such promise.” Rhea’s voice faded further and further away and Byleth realized, as she descended into her torpor, that she had not been speaking to her. “This can’t be all there is. This one can’t be another failure…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this to take so long but I've been going through a lot of issues with mental health for the past few weeks.  
> It also just takes me a while to write stuff. I have to research so much. I'm just some grimy former street rat, I know absolutely nothing about horses or furniture or the like  
> Speaking of which, I’m learning about flowers to grow carnations. The title of this story, Blumenaschen, is poetic 18th century German meaning flower ashes, but colloquially in old low German meant flowerpots, a vessel for something to grow in. Look for the symbolism I use with different kinds of flowers within the story if you’d like
> 
> I'm just happy to finally publish this, I really needed to for my sense of creative productivity  
> So please enjoy a nice cold glass of mother/child emotional trauma
> 
> Up next, character interactions and plot
> 
> As always feel free to comment, it's refreshing to know if people enjoy it or what they think


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